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#these are the ones that came to mind so holla at me if i missed u pls
libidomechanica · 9 days
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Thy neck
A sonnet sequence
               1
But when the sun. Repeated shoulder as in the blythest bird upon the early walk, a wood-coal or the first grew scarce had pass, escape? On what art than just a prettily fondly laid, to the villages. Where the center of his former Catholic schoolboy. Her shone for stood. Thy neck. I fancied it and aye she is dart: but this. It once set free, this more innocuous occupation. All night: so, loveliness won’t believe life? Julia show of admire, forgetting loved had brought. Love a new and singular She is thy love, my honey; I have I come to quench lovers are born.
               2
Or holla for the palm tree, cut down; there she but have missing breath of her heart the sound of time service, not enterwove; as if thou that tomb fair prize, A deale of everywhere it feels right has fall dreamed.—Blythe and put you don’t misreport,—long and tired I look from memory, I would trust her head, which carried loose frequent the feast and I’d plunging wave on forget not go seek, but the power of that. For Johnie o’ my heart o’ leesome love you hence, it would seeming ever met her? When Gaeta’s take his fine-pointed a Saint apace were allows what in the keepe, how far to me.
               3
What of them I reach; and my whole soul loveth: I sought him, and told her sacred flowers, that gladly thee. A skull angry with tenderness. Thus let us goe, which looked through THAT Love is better the sea in the deep vaults. Whose small liking, if unskilled, you my head&to keepe. And curse or kick him not fit mark the smell of gravity, which is the world? Who is short scornful ways; the earth’s poor devil’s Elbow. Where hang a thousand Viva l’ Italia! Ardor burn, nor mermaid’s yellow pride; he who could I see a text that she is so eased to have so longer could I don’t fear to the chiefe light.
               4
Where is to my beloved gone; the flower octave clotted with wit, the aire: hangs free that go astray from the dust, like relish in us had escape writing words, being Christ of the deep snow piled above it all, eat it sinketh, suck my liberty, rights, and yet th’elixir got, the Prior: when you reprove, the cars will drink you! There the iron lung. It was right them split his vocal air, at kirk or markes engraue in my yellow’s simple yet Gibson demolished. With thy speech, you want to dreamed: our friend the Eight as they say that I can starr’d of married loose frequent show he campers.
               5
And tell the Light of Light of delight would kiss, but with one of this world goes all of thine eyes and stream of solitude and forth with love, where else to love, my yankee kin, I thinking off the breasts are asleep I return, return’d to the Power, and strangle her wrists, two bits of the pleasant art can say I’m hung in you! To me all that life into the moonly and a burning. Or, for the bottom the shepherd, but her, or no, for the turtle on it and coldly him embrace; for well as of the soul, and please. And thy love, be briefe in pass-and- repass of the white glow that is thy breath!
               6
Good claret set about going to me. My dust on the night I was number. Ours! Why do thee, in sack of golden pomp is cool again. Let none sees only light. Or when love is bear thy nose and each foot in The Power thankful, ay or no; or when once only: we have relish in the rivers rage and I shall not mind. With me ere long. Float on his net? And morn has been dreams had open to loved that her sunny hair, turn, O Shulamite? It’s … well, well me from you, was forc’d, the lake lies sleep! So we whose approach their than alive—for that dwalt on my knees both demands, now you hurt me, now!
               7
For Charlie Cochran was Werther, and mak’st all I be at fifty should obey a shade, and my own sweet sake a fairy treasure shall come to that came fruit thee defeated, by addition we’re made you use and got men’s love, some eares you always the darksome love, thy son the fruit no bee shall him, and date. I say like dust, like two name and look? Love it, mediating shut, till, you see, in equal verse seeks, the never turned then, when these kissed my head, which came things, and praise in me do for a bell struck—I’m the church knows how, and fling that I could never through THAT Love of my dreams are as good!
               8
Eye doth make, or seasons as if they maun hae their turned away. This, is come for a football with his grief of light with the pledging after years after hard world slowly dies, as endless prove therefore us, I suppose I’ve marriage. Less fellow does not ashamed. Many more than we shall eat when one of the accident, I told of our sprite, disdaine to peer her. Sleep ere I come to myself from vse of tyrant caught and rare flowers at the cruel scorn that fresh Spring in May. Oh now I raised them still, and none is to pray? A growling, prayer! Now what doth spend and look? Those two young and lamb.
               9
To the dreary graves give not let him go, until mine eyes and grammar, vowel sounds, like flying rain; when we shall live so love, my darling. His dying man hath drunken said a wound a little light true that, iste perfecit opus! With one devotion hold you about his brutal scorn that griefe; and the roof of grape, cherry weeping, had ne’er a ane to be such familiar excellence, here burnt, whose each landscape, that which the womb all our Titles should suffer me in whom Nature of his hands. Mother call forged hooks, scrawled in the hills I’ve wander feeble power of that the feast and neat light.
               10
And as always for kissing be such a crime to crucify my lips on his flying words soere shine, of her with my calmly great man, saints and fifteen will strike you see her lilies. And modestly strokes thy belly is as a warm as a warm room, the city tower o’ the decay: if this thunderbird instead of speech itself. Original Intelligences addest,— I lay me wilderness, least word to sleepers; every pride, thy son the thought it near. Than braes o’ dawn are about I’ll still art discover linked with finally am how should do not just that’s the sky, hell’s fire.
               11
From a sepulchre, and I am his: he feedeth among the mark clean again. For a rain is over you … mother, and perfumes keep mind my dizziness is the sprout of my mother praise great round stone heading to earth, or the roof does departest; and sunly and my beloved come o’t what conceive the badge, and merry, what was left hand fold me with a son? I’m becoming of her this spicy night as what thou fairest maid was bom old. Return would flie away. Now reign of course to fields, and sometimes the winds creep softly o’er the lips. Lord, it’s the night seeks, Close tomb fair your hurt! My sister flowing old, waiting thanks. Slouches and out, try at it so. The secret placed wild bird’s window for fret at all it’s full of grated of roses proposing a new news came, instead of thee and rejoice in sun her so, lending an hour in eastern gate, Luke Havergal—luke Havergal.
               12
I will hap some malignant disemburden love and all these loves; never noticed wings where two contracted new come day. They will never having water, beside the world that white glow that an all you call the wings where I could not be despise them from the third, they are, careless passion of all who caper her seat their joyes are like a theefe hid in the heat till more clean, and deliberate human observance.—The beautiful, before than new love were flower in infinite merchange it sweetest has a kiss me, deare captainesse clean, but this sad place hath she but in her flowers I see!
               13
One in blood, like to that sucked in each nightie eating my eight of Lights of song—flowers, and but a monk! The languishable the Dust, the west by the rosebud to not kept. Hope, and thence remove all growth. To find weak point, I think it soon when worked up … zooks, what your mother. My man, woman’s gentle bosom sits that but naked and still through thou feedeth among whisper’d thus condition is adorning. As though I swear it to know me little linnet fondling, pure, was tint, her pap and down, o this fair, keep still till at eight my wine of tender grace. Till call into the bush her locks. The morning.
               14
Whose brows of the foot and love has realme of thee so think till Nature’s own behoof, who was she, whatever rust if you think I made a monument, studies what the more terms with beautiful, O my beloved’s, and blue mountainside my hearse: hereat travail so gladly spent, and what was already two breasts, she made a monk of such burning. Of that swear as the garden steps into words, if only me the stand times shouting, pure, was tender love within the hill, the rosebud with the bushy, and God to refer to, with companions? Forget not there I’ve reared, and staide here at her shining.
               15
I wad in vain bubbled, till lingers on the time for ever. Once lost, can not cover iterance! No, the tried me where entreat one sits no long, god in the fish moving serve more it; friends and owns the badge, and twittered, Kate Brown’s shadow pay? And blue, can’t espy in any one, and pays it went, curtains of Bether. To kill myself, hands have made or is it shows, once my face. Way, I must tell of cares to knows what you distil you be the lives and letter. I write. Now is thy love, get, tell, pointing eyes that I proud heard, and hand, seek’st thou first and rare flower the faces of the early!
               16
Whether way, he burnt, whose stead of laying at the world’s eye that made it for there though thou dost love ae e’ening to the height love me forth her love it must rear ourselves? Thy two years dead Dad kept, and have stood like to me, wherewith his mother’s house, with loved every other slip or faithful troop am I. Lady, won’t even more purply black mark of the spring. But dark heart to pass now we meet. With pewter, bronze, and love bring them. While we are now part of a peacock, sits long years of what comes in clover. Ay, but I am prettily, as is a thing while we are tears, so long despair!
               17
My lassie, in tears, to whom my soul, and in the fooleries. And now, hip to have a second heard love’s syrup, that which my teeth, such familiar sight that’s her would be fountain to the world drops dead words? A delicate change as certain of that wait for mind my youth convertest. Nor cheek, crooned, Goodnight, destroyed by the glistrings, never rat, then western hills beyond whisper in the banks of the bushy, and women’s lost i’ th’ funeral director? Your business and blood that terse must speak. In the river, and have I forgot; nor cherries into her arms pale death, and catcher’s love. With my bodhisattva of neon. Yet with her lip? And gingerbread in that I dream of her died and be said. Goldilocks thy locks: thy nobler seal, and end his broad, sun-spotted egg releases its harvest. Many as spider it was its petal tips; for the pomegranate widow’s eyes!
               18
Then the consequence of loue; that, if ye find a Well of gold. World was bom old. I heard, and old; brother, and waters run o’er, I can shower will doth closer—one day in a row of mountains sloped down with ever-during, give him in vain—and everything himself wildly and thrust into one. Then will never noticed you I try to where the rich proud cost of bloody cloth, and Grisi yet lives will hap some eares young roes than forgot; nor blank; it means hope, my joy! My beloved’s, and thou dost love more to the blue, can’t say, who forbids our heart. That I shall know you as the sprout of woes. And she world should spie, nor blam’d for his bellyful, there doth not know time’s all the world that I might banking deep as a courtesy not I put our love to let out to the feasted, despaire, my beloved; and countenance, let’s best, where erst he met has been’ a moment seemed to be a Jew.
               19
Each Flower of his though in but betters! As who need, that we hae seen by a warble than your desk for his? This transfer a weak, and mute admire, which with thee. To accept itself. For, lo, the user so well as bases deep devotion deep snow piled books, in her key scrape in men. Because man you be the Princes if it shall I dote the thing while under tone came out of a day I’d find a way to light:—must a little chill; and their arms, while understand at the pretty you are twins, which the chromatic scale up: for our sister in part ’tis here? And I’d plunging wave of you!
               20
I’m free sideways was. Whose the memory’s rapturous pains—which is true Love is but see the daughters. Have stood and ovens and our day, and trimm’d with a face down upon a thorn. Your own poor monk of men—man’s daughter beside thing. His dying mayst call freedom, not so. Away by feeding in Sant’ Ambrose, and into the South, I tie then rush’d past, they met or particle and I will builded for a pink casket, those cool waves might comes in men. The effigies them shot himself he can say easily I know the Florentines, saint out to the saved my desires, and thy sciography?
               21
And that has left of a kind them forget the found her small lady in the feather despisd, and do not kill the strange art; and his chamber of useless shall rounds, who come into the world so full the wild Decembers sweet is the Sacrifice. Who hauing go the primal thine owne fiers might sees. Women are the vestal flame was wont to bed is got up, nor any wickedness might my will send his Daughter to this round stopped I have liv’d still, and stumbling suddenly I saw thee, and small, over us. And swamping their order as well she knew she’d just like a is former Catholic school, his please.
               22
Her looks at very morning-star, alike, both diffused the festoon of the Knight! Too lately enough, till he pledging with thee so the wheel at midday moan, and through brows of lusty May! Flowery angel wings, and Giaours throw kerchiefs at a victor’s feet. Weaned my young and love. That Choice is not a clock nor a burning after they’are bush doth Phoebus in our ago, or laces, or a traveling suddenly up, the tip of a hundred. Without pause, up this but there came next Friday! They bear children’s her face; and that a crust, patchy and to be said— Oh Darlings! In well-raisde notes are made of.
               23
Mere emblems of a vanish’d long! Your ugly empty airless as the Starrs, all was her house, and thy son thus his patiently strangle by the rosebud with his Saint Sebastian or snow, how cream-white o’er the loss with tree putteth at his pink casket, those necke beames display? What, bright to say like the wretch approaches, crying: The deepe; griefe but get a winter, who loue, who had but see, now! Hers he fondly on her eyes wobble as swan or snow, yet never stopped in the stept—then these pretty you cause you sit and breasts to me, my beloved me quite dispossessed, to take me. And less for knees.
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hihellogoodbyebruh · 4 years
Text
Is She the Reason?
Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Reader
Summary: Angel has been distant lately and Y/N discovers the reason why.
Warning(s): Foul language, angst, cheating :(
Word count: 1,831
Author’s Note: I’ve been in a sad mood so this kind of came out of that. Plus of course the Destiny’s Child song of the same title was inspiration. There is kind of a prequel in my docs that may get posted in the future. We shall see. Also the text in the gif isn’t relevant, I just needed sad Angel. Questions, comments, and concerns are always welcome. My inbox is open. Enjoy!
Part 2
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The MC was dealing with a very busy couple of weeks. With the Galindos now working with Rebels, the Mayans were needed to help facilitate the relationship incognito. Angel had a position now so his responsibilities were even greater and you’d seen him less and less. He used to call and text frequently, but you stopped receiving those all the time as well. Something felt wrong, but you chalked it up to him just being busy. You missed just being in his arms and seeing that annoyingly sexy smile on his face. You knew the guys were running day in and day out so you wanted to do something for them. With the help of Chucky, you organized a special dinner for everyone. You knew it could get interrupted with urgent club news, but you had to try.
With meat provided by Pops and sides prepared by you, the boys practically had a feast laid out in the middle of the clubhouse. You had come to really care about all members of the club. Your father was a retired police captain who always had a soft spot for the club. He was actually friends with Bishop and Marcus. You’d known them all your life. Of course EZ, Coco, and Gilly had a special place in your heart because of their closeness to Angel. They became like brothers to you quickly. EZ was the baby brother with the gentle soul, Coco was the wild one, and Gilly was just so damn lovable. They were the perfect balances for Angel and you were so happy he had them in his life.
As you finished making sure everything was laid out to perfection, you heard the rumblings of engines outside.
“They’re here!” Chucky excitedly declared and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yes I can hear that Chucky. Start opening some beers up, yeah?” You suggested and he nodded his head as he followed instructions. You had just made your way from behind the bar when the doors opened.
“Something smells good as fuck in here. No way Chucky cooked.” Bishop stated as he walked in with Taza and Loza behind him.
“Absolutely not. I love y’all too much for that. I figured you busy men deserved a nice home cooked meal. Dig in, Jefe.” You announced, smiling at them. Obispo was like a second father to you. Your father and him had developed a highly unlikely friendship that was still strong after all these years. They played cards every week.
“Gracias, chica.” Bishop replied, placing a paternal kiss on the side of your head before walking towards where Chucky had beers lined out.
You were greeted and hugged by the rest of the gang, with Coco and Gilly pulling up the rear.
“You cooked, Y/N? Please tell me you made mac and cheese.” Coco asked, with the closest thing to a pout on his face that you’d ever see.
“Nope. Not this time.” You lied, just to see his and Gilly’s faces dropped. It was so funny.
“I’m just playing. Of course I-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence because Gilly and Coco were racing each other to get to the pan first. 
“Y’all better share!” You yelled after them, laughing and shaking your head before heading towards the door. Angel hadn’t been inside yet so you figured he was outside talking to EZ. You had on your favorite pair of jeans that hugged your ass just how he liked it and you had recently taken down your braids to let your natural hair breathe. You had a fresh twist out and you knew your tight curls bouncy and shining in the sunlight.
As you stepped outside, you spotted Angel immediately. He was leaning against the side of the opened van door speaking with a woman sitting down on the van’s floor. You tried not to let yourself be the jealous type. Angel was a very attractive man that often had girls trying to holla at him. He never seemed to entertain them. Nah, it wasn’t the fact that he was talking to a woman that bothered you. It’s the way he was talking to her.
He was completely engrossed by her. You could only see his profile but you recognized the softness in his face. It’s the same look he would give to you. The look that had you feeling like you were the center of his universe. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched the genuine smile that spread across his face as he became amused at something the woman said. You watched his hand run up her forearm and give it a gentle squeeze. There was nothing overtly sexual happening, but the intimacy of it all broke your heart.
The woman wasn’t someone familiar to you. At first. But then you spotted the unique tattoo on her neck. You had heard that tattoo described before. Adelita. The rebel leader. She was beautiful. There was a quiet power to her that almost pulled you in. All of the dots began connecting in your head. All those times he mentioned Adelita and how smart she was, how brave she was, what a badass she was. You thought it was just respect, but now you see it’s more than that. Something was going on between them.
Noise caught your attention and from your peripheral you spotted EZ coming out from his RV. You watched him assess the situation in seconds flat. You turned your head to make eye contact with him and the sad smile on his face, the apology written clear as day there, took your breath away. You felt a tear slide down your face and you turned around to quickly wipe it away.
When you turned back around, EZ had walked over and broken up the conversation. Angel finally turned around and saw you there. You could have swore you saw a quick flash of guilt cross his face before he walked over to you.
“Hey querida.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you into a hug.
Even with your confusion, heartbreak, and anger you couldn’t help completely folding into the hug. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist and you found yourself inhaling his scent. “Hi.” You breathed out as you finally pulled back from the hug.
“Hey Y/N/N, what are you doing here?” EZ asked, giving you a one armed squeeze.
“I cooked dinner for y’all. There’s plenty inside. Even for your friend here.” You mentioned, with a nod in the woman’s direction. “Except maybe the mac and cheese if someone didn’t stop Coco and Gilly from being hogs.”
“Gracias,” Adelita told you before walking inside the clubhouse with EZ. You watched as Angel watched her for a second before dragging his eyes back to you. There was a silence between y’all before you broke it.
“Is she the reason?” You quietly asked Angel.
“What?”
You scrubbed your hands over your face, trying to hold yourself together. “Is she the reason? The reason you don’t call like you used to? Come around my place like you used to? Or put it on me hard like you used to do?”
“Y/N, it’s not like that.”
“I didn’t ask what it’s like. I asked if she’s the reason that my calls didn't reach you? The deepest of my love couldn’t please you? Tell me the truth right fucking now. I deserve to know.”
There was another silence between y’all as you just stared in his eyes. You were begging, practically pleading with him to tell you that you were wrong. You were putting too much on nothing. That there was no one else… “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Angel sighed, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach
“No..no, no, NO fucking dammit Angel!” You shoved him hard, your heartbreak manifesting as anger. “You promised me…”
He stumbled back a little at your push. “I’m so sorry Y/N. We were just working together, but something about her I-”
You cut him off with an angry hiss, “Shut up!” You didn’t want to hear all the things he found so wonderful about her. They didn’t matter. You just started pacing back and forth in front of him. You guys were lucky the yard was closed today and that EZ probably told everyone to stay inside and give y’all space. But honestly, you didn’t even care if you made a scene right now.
“You told me that before you stepped, you’d let me know. You promised you’d tell me if anything changed. You promised to be honest. You promised not to embarrass me. You promised, Angel, you promised…” Your voice broke as the full realization hit you. He’d been carrying out this affair for however long and he didn’t have the decency to tell you. You’ve been worried about him this whole time, but he’s been having himself a great time. You couldn’t stop the tears that flowed.
His eyes closed in guilt and sadness as you started to cry. He never wanted to hurt you. He just got into a situation that spiraled out of control. “Lo siento mucho cariño.” 
You just shook your head, unable to believe his words. Unable to believe what was happening. “Before you let me see you with her, you could have told me a change was gonna come. Told me something, anything...but no. How could you let it go this far if you had doubts that I wasn’t the one?”
“I didn’t have any doubts. It didn’t happen like that. I love you, but I just….I can’t explain it.”
“Love? You love me?” You repeated, your voice hoarse and breaking with the word. This wasn’t love. Love should never have so much confusion. Your mind was spinning and you needed to leave. Immediately. “I can’t do this.” You try to walk away but he grabs you.
“Y/N wait, please…” He pleaded, taking your hand and that physical contact caused you to snap.
“GET OFF ME!” You yelled at him, snatching your hand back. All thoughts of not making a scene left your mind. You were reacting from pure hurt. Your scream brought out the men from the clubhouse. “And don’t ever touch me again. We’re done, Angel. We’re so fucking over. You need to get your shit together, but I’m not gonna wait around until you do.”
And then you were rushing to your car and speeding out of the scrap yard. Angel tried his best to keep himself together even as he felt like his heart was beat out of his chest. He wanted to race after you but all he could do was watch you go. He felt someone step up beside him.
“I thought I told you not to be stupid, Angel.” Bishop told him, eyes still on the road your car sped down. He was pissed.
“Bish, I-” Angel started, but was interrupted by Bishop’s fist meeting his mouth. He fell to the ground, wiping at his busted lip.
“Just stay away from her.”
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kumkaniudaku · 4 years
Text
Hey, Neighbor
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Summary: You’ve got a noisy neighbor next door to meet.
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.
“My love is like woah! My kiss is like woah! My touch is like…”
Rolling your eyes, you quietly danced in front of the stove as you sauteed vegetables for dinner. Mya was a new entry into the almost nightly DJ session that took place in the apartment beside your two bedroom unit. Without fail, the once quiet atmosphere was electrified at 6:30 pm sharp, letting you know what kind of day your next door neighbor was having.
Some days, you’d sit and listen, trying to block out the Goodie Mob or Marvin Gaye passing through the paper thin walls while you completed work that had seeped into your home life. Then came the rare moments of playfulness when you would follow each of his songs with a track that served as an answer to the overall theme.
He didn’t seem to notice your attempts to spark a non-verbal conversation. You weren’t even completely sure he knew who you were. Brief meetings in the parking garage or the lobby elevator put you in close proximity, but he never took time to say hello or even acknowledge your dog, Leche when she would climb his long legs for attention. Still, doing so helped you pass the time until he closed up shop and presumably went to bed.
Working on your second glass of Rosé on a rainy Friday evening, you bopped your head along to song after song until the buzz tingling in your bones convinced you to connect your phone to the nearby Bluetooth speaker.
“If your love is like whoa, then you should let me love you. That’s corny,” you muttered to yourself. “Just play the damn song.”
Your timing was perfect as the tail end of Mya met the smooth tone of Mario’s signature crooning.
“Baby, I just don’t get it. Do you enjoy being hurt?”
As quick as you pressed play, you returned your attention to the stove to reduce the heat on your honey glaze. Mario’s vocals quickly became white noise in your brain and you hadn’t noticed that the song was nearing the end until a familiar guitar line interrupted the remaining thirty seconds.
“The time has come for us to stop messing around…”
Your body reacted before you could completely understand what was happening. Was he responding? And if he was, did that mean he had purposely ignored you during the previous unofficial battles? Shaking the thought, you rushed to your phone to find the perfect follow-up to The Gap Band’s ‘Yearning For Your Love.’
Four minutes felt like four hours while you waited for your turn to hit play and answer the coded message.
“In the middle of the day now baby, I seem to think of only you. Never thinking for a moment, baby, that you’ve been thinking of me too.”
“It’s Total and Biggie. Everybody loves Total and Biggie, right? Right?”
Judging from his never ending playlists, he was hard to pin to a genre. Old school funk and soul could be replaced with 90s hip-hop and then soft rock in a 30 minute time span without missing a beat. So, it was only natural that he would find some common ground with a moment from your Bad Boy playlist.
You were at his mercy while the song played and wondered how he was reacting. In your mind, he was just as excited as you were as he scrolled through his phone or computer looking for the perfect rebuttal. In reality, he was probably searching for the perfect set of lyrics that said “Please, leave me alone,” in the nicest way possible.
A long and uncomfortable bout of silence followed the son, making you scrunch your face.
“Oh-kay. Did I win, Leche?” Your favorite Corgi in the world yawned in response before splooting in the center of the living room. “You’re right. He is totally calling the front desk to have me fined for a noise disturbance. Can I borrow $75?”
Mentioning money earned a bark from Leche, making you laugh as you joined her on the floor. The only sound between the two apartments was the start of the newest Real Housewives of Atlanta episode until the Bluetooth speaker next door started up again and Tevin Campbell’s voice began signing.
“Can we talk for a minute? Girl I wanna know your name.”
That was it. The chorus played once through before silence took over.
“Did he do that on purpose,” you thought to yourself.
After a few seconds of gambling with your rational self on what to do next, you scrambled to your Lemme Holla playlist and pressed play on your response.
“Come and talk to me. I really wanna meet you. Can I talk to you? I really wanna know you.”
A loud laugh, one you’d never heard before but knew you wanted to hear again, rang out, making you smile. You listened for movement and found your answer as a door in the hallway opened and closed. Soon, knuckles rapped at your door.
You calmed your giddy dance moves before tip toeing toward the mirror next to the entrance. Luckily you were still in your work attire from the day, sporting a simple olive jumpsuit. Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself a mental countdown from three and opened the door.
“Oh…”You immediately felt like an idiot for your outburst but it was certainly justified.
He stood with undeniable confidence and the brightest smile you’d seen in a while. The material of his maroon turtleneck stretched across the broad span of his shoulders, rippling at his arms and chest. You could smell a little of his cologne when he shifted his weight to move from his leaning position against the doorframe. He was damn near perfect and you were almost regretting playing games with a gorgeous stranger.
“I brought wine. I could smell whatever you got going on from the balcony and figured I should bring gifts,” he said smiling as he extended the bottle of white wine in your direction. You reached out with a blank stare,prompting him to nervously continue. “I’m Yahya, by the way. From next door. The one with the music.”
“Yahya…,” you repeated. Snapping back into your body, you could see confusion brewing behind his expressive eyes. Shaking your head, you began to smile. “Looks like the Sixth Floor DJ has decided to grace 6F with his presence.”
“Well, you know, I like to put on a show. You’re my favorite audience member if that counts for anything.” Both of you laughed at his pseudo compliment before sharing brief looks that carried deeper meaning. “I gotta say, this is a nice place. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Not at all. Just me and Leche about to settle down and watch some Housewives. You caught up with the season?”
“I never miss an episode.”
You returned his wide grin with one of your own and stepped aside to give Yahya room to enter. He strolled in like he was in familiar territory, even bending down to greet Leche who eagerly stood to place her front paws on his leg.
Dinner for one had just found a second party. It was the neighborly thing to do, right?
I’m not sure if anyone wants to be tagged in Yahya stuff. I don’t even know if this will become a regular thing. But, if you’re interested in either, let me know!
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onlykilo · 3 years
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don’t sweat it ma, you know ima be aight at the end of the day.
it’s straight.
you doin’ what you see is best.
love you.
5 HOURS EARLIER.
“Y’all fuckin’ up the vibe already, nigga.” 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐎 laughed loudly as he pearled the freshly rolled spliff before sparking the end of it. The male was surrounded by a vast majority of his friends, while they all shared the blunt 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐎 was currently indulging in, they had their own thing going on individually within the dimly lit studio. The legendary Isley Brothers played throughout the speakers, Between The Sheets complimenting the mellowed vibe. In male like manner, women were included in the moment, of course. The girl in 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐎’s lap was perfect if the topic of physical appearances came up — her ass was fat and soft, slim waisted, flat stomach and she smelled like one of his favorite Jimmy Choo fragrances; she placed that ass right in the heart of his lap and didn’t move it as she talked with her friends. Her face was up there too, she was pretty as hell. There was no doubt in 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐎’s mind that he’d have her bent up in the back of his Escalade by the time the sun peaked over its horizon. Hell, the aura was sexual. It didn’t help that his friend could be heard audibly getting sucked up in the room right across from them. “I told y’all that bitch looked like she one of them nut dispensaries.” His friend voiced as the group bursted out into a fit of laughter. The phone on hip vibrating diverted his attention as he passed the blunt to the next person in rotation, the name on the screen being his mother’s. He had been ignoring the woman’s calls all day, this had to be about the 10th one and still she hadn’t caught the hint that he was occupied and would get back to her later. Letting out a loud sigh, he pressed the green button and put the phone to his ear.
“Yes ma’am?” He spoke humbly, his mother, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄, always got the utmost respect out of him no matter the situation because that’s how she raised him and his older sister.
- “I’m glad you remember how to operate your phone. Do you know how many times I’ve called you today, La’Rue? This is exactly why I wish your father was still alive because I cannot keep doing this shit with your hardheaded ass.” His mother sighed as she began her spiel about how she was tired of having to tell him anything and how things would be different if his late father was actually here to which he returned silence. 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 passed when 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐎 was young, therefore, he didn’t remember too much about his father and he didn’t have the memories that his older sister, 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀, had with him.
“Okay, ma. I know. Did you need me to do somethin’? You straight? Keish okay?”
- “I sat and talked to myself, with the assistance of your sister as well and I’ve decided that until you prove that you are this grown man you proclaim to be, you won’t be getting anything else that was left by your father or myself. When I feel like I see some changes that are actually substantial and to my liking, you’ll know. But until then, there’s been a freeze put on every account, Kilo. You haven’t made this easy for me, but I want more for you. What happened to that passion you had when you were cutting hair in the barbershop? All you do is get high, go out every night and do God only knows what when you’re missing for hours at a time. Your father wouldn’t be proud of you.
𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐎 didn’t even have a verbal response, all he could do was laugh. He laughed so hard they skipped him in rotation and the broad in his lap took his place, which normally would’ve pissed him off but he was so confused as to what was actually happening at the very moment that he didn’t think too much about it. What the fuck was the point of having a trust fund or money left aside for you if you couldn’t spend it the way you wanted to? Live your life the way you wanted to? Especially when she was the one that had spewed that same bullshit for years. “You forreal? And Keisha had say in this whole sh— thing? That’s wild. Guess I gotta start movin’ weight forreal now.” He added in before continuing dryly, an obvious shift in his demeanor. “Aight, ma. That’s coo’. I got company, so I’ll holla at you later.” He could hear her speaking to him as he removed the phone from his ear but wasn’t able to decipher it as he quickly ended the call. He was good at masking his emotions, so the quick rush of frustration and annoyance was shifted and his attention went back to the blunt. “We gon’ finish this and i’ma take you back to the crib, shawty.”
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theliteraryvampire · 4 years
Text
Take Your Heart In Your Teeth (8/?)
Warnings: None!
Fandom: BBC Dracula (Dracula x reader)
Author’s Notes: So this chapter barely has Dracula in it as well, but part 9 gets saucy :)
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Dracula drove me back to my place in his Jaguar, and I would have been embarrassed of my converted tenement apartment if I hadn’t been so focused on my white knuckled grip of the car door’s handle. True to his word, he hadn’t harmed me, and he was being a perfect gentleman. He even opened the car door for me, which I ever so slightly appreciated. Slightly.
Soon enough he pulled up to the curb, but before I could get out, he spoke. “I do hope you take me up on my offer. I would explain everything to you right now, but there’s somewhere else I currently need to be. And, for the record, I am sorry.” Gently, he took my hand in his and placed a kiss on my knuckles, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t give me butterflies.
I scrambled out of his car, not taking my eyes off him, and I watched his headlights until they were no longer in view. For the second time in two nights, I walked up to my apartment in a haze, my mind turning.
Before I opened the door, I took a deep breath and whipped my phone out. I had 17 texts and 9 missed phone calls from Sara.
8:31 am
Sara: Be careful! Text me when you can.
8:42 am
Sara: How’s it going?
8:59 am
Sara: If you don’t answer I’m going to call the police.
I scrolled down through the messages a bit.
10:04 am
Sara: Ok so, I can’t actually call the police because I forgot that I have a massive joint on me rn (holla) but I’m still worried. Text me.
12:56 pm
Sara: The only way I’ll forgive you for not answering me is if you’re having hot ass sex because it was all a huge misunderstanding. 
5:45 pm
Sara: If you get home soon I went out to get food. Luhhh yewww bye.
6:59 pm
Sara: Going out with GB to find your dead body. But you better not be fuckin dead dude, I swear to god.
7:25 pm
Sara: Going out on my date! We’ll talk when I get back!! And if you aren’t home when I get back I AM calling the police. I already smoked my joint so I’m good lmao. 
I cleared the rest of the messages and took another deep breath before I poured myself out a shot of vodka and downed it. Another shot, and another, and I was starting to feel calmer. I threw my coat on the back of the couch and sat down, head in my hands. I took a few steadying breaths, and tried thinking about what I was going to tell Sara, but I didn’t get too far before I heard our door open.
For once in her life, Sara said nothing when she came in. She smiled at me weakly, a gesture I returned myself, and she plopped down on the couch next to me, staring up at the ceiling. I leaned back to follow suit.
“So…” she began, but her voice drifted out.
“So…”
“Vampires are real,” we said in unison.
I sat up out of shock and looked at her. “Wait, how do you know?”
She sat up as well. “Because Jack told me…?”
It hit me. Sara’s date. The guy from the gallery. Jack Seward. That’s why his name sounded so familiar.
“He...did? What exactly did he say?”
“He said that he had...tried to attack someone today, and he felt so guilty about it that he had to tell me everything. He admitted that he liked me too much to keep everything from me, and, and he said that...that I had a right to know.”
Well, I thought, that was...nice of him. I suppose. 
“And...Dracula?”
“He told me about him too. That he was the one who created him.”
I sighed. “Did Jack happen to mention who he attacked today?”
“No.”
Preparing myself for Sara’s reaction, I slowly unfurled my hand. “It was me. He almost attacked me.” My voice was quiet, hardly more than a whisper. “He stitched me up, though. Dracula said he didn’t want to hurt me.”
She grabbed my hand, eyes studying the stitches, but she didn’t say anything, so I continued.
“It was my fault, really. I cut myself to prove...or disprove, really, that, that Dracula was…” I sighed. “But then Jack just got...overcome, I guess, and Dracula actually saved me, and then Jack...stitched me up and,” I got choked up and I blinked a few times, willing the tears away. “And...I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t know what to do either.”
“I like him...Dracula,” I finally admitted.
“I like Jack too.”
“...this is fucking ridiculous.”
We looked at each other then, and before we knew it, we were laughing. Hysterically laughing, tears running down our cheeks. Laughing at the day, laughing at what we had admitted, laughing at the absurdity of it all. 
“So,” I said, after our laughter had calmed down. “What are we mere mortals to do?” I poured us each a shot, and we drank them together.
“Well, I always knew I was going to die in a sexy, mysterious way,” Sara laughed, but it was quickly followed by a sigh. She turned to me, and for once, she was serious. “I trust Jack.”
I paused. Did I trust Jack? He had almost killed me but...he had been fine before I had sliced my hand open. And he did stitch me up, after. And he told Sara about everything, so he obviously trusted her, too. Still, I didn’t know yet if I fully trusted Jack, but… 
“I trust Dracula.” And that was the truth.
~~~
I tossed in bed, replaying everything that had happened to me just a few hours earlier. Dracula, and Jack, were vampires. My best friend of 20 years was now involved in this. I almost died, but yet, I found myself yearning to be around Dracula. I wanted to talk to him, to laugh with him, to feel his hand on mine again.
Frustrated, I rolled over and grabbed my phone.
11:18 pm
Me: I’ll let you explain.
11:19 pm
Dracula: THANK YOU.
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bang-and-a-blintz · 4 years
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Through the Darkness
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CHAPTER SIX - ROSEMARY GRITS
Fandom: Dracula (2020)  
Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  
Rating: Mature  
Warnings: None  
Word Count: 4,475
Cafe Rose Nicaud had a moderate crowd for the afternoon rush. This allowed Dracula and Roxana to squeeze into a small booth in the far corner without having to wait. It was a cozy spot; the dark walls were lined with brightly painted caricatures of revered local musicians and the glass in the windows was covered with a colored film that reflected purple, green, and gold across the tables. Kermit Ruffin's trumpet cooed and floated casually out from the speakers in the ceiling.
A waitress shuffled over to drop off some menus and waters, when she smiled her cheeks were dotted and rosy and half her teeth were missing. Roxana thanked the woman and took a swig from the ice-cold glass. The midday sun heated the city quite nicely, making her light jacket feel a little too warm, so she shrugged it off and folded it up next to her. Dracula, on the other hand, and despite his all-black three-piece-suit, looked as cool as a cucumber as he lazily put his sunglasses into his breast pocket and picked up the menu.
The image struck her as strangely normal, too normal, to see Dracula sitting across from her at a small cafe tapping his claws against the tabletop and glancing over the menu with an almost bored look. Roxana used the opportunity to properly inspect him in the daylight. She couldn't deny that the man was attractive. His thick black mane was only slightly mussed from the walk, but otherwise impeccably maintained. He had such a distinguished facial structure that she couldn't help but to be in slight awe; from the serious, Slavic brow to the prominently defined cheekbones; he was every bit a good-looking villainous trope. She took particular notice of his full lips; what a soft and pillowy barrier between his vicious teeth and any poor soul that got too close.
By the way his brows knitted together as he read the menu, she gathered he was unfamiliar with the world of modern cuisine. It made it her wonder if he knew anything about human food at all.
"Do you even eat food?" Roxana asked curiously.
Dracula shook his head, "No, but I do find it intriguing how much stock you all put into food here. It's as if you really care about what you consume. I like that."
"Because food is lives. A single plate can tell the stories of the past or create visions for the future; it can soothe your soul, shed your tears, and inspire your senses. It allows us to survive but can just as well be a cause of death." She took another sip of water before continuing. "I believe that flavor is the essence of life and it is blasphemy to claim otherwise."
He stared at her for a moment with what almost looked like fondness. "I completely agree."
"It's a shame though."
"What's that?"
"Well, that you missed out on such a wonderful dish last night," Roxana's lips curved as he cocked his head, "I had really put in the effort and for that chateaubriand to be wasted on you is just tragic."
"To be perfectly honest, I had been thinking about a different kind of meal you could've offered." Dracula grinned, leaning closer across the table, "You know, it's bad for business, not providing for your client's needs and wants. That is something we shall have to work on."
She swallowed thickly, he was a bit too close and she could see nothing but the black hole of his gaze. His eyes were truly mesmerizing and she was afraid of getting lost inside that intimidating stare. Luckily for her, at that moment the waitress came back to take the order, Roxana was grateful for the distraction and spoke up first, "I'll take the rose benedict with some gator sausage and a house bloody, please cher."
"Not a problem, babe, and what about you, handsome?"
"I'm just here for the lady." He smiled boyishly. "But I wouldn't mind trying a tall glass of yourself."
She gave a shriek of laughter and pointed a crooked finger at him before collecting the menus back up, "Oh you're nothing but trouble. Alright, baby, that'll be right up, just holla if you need anything." She walked back towards the kitchen shaking her head. "Ohh, he's bad!"
"If she only knew," Roxana muttered.
He turned to smile at her, "That word you said, 'cher', what does that mean? You called me it earlier as well."
His question was innocent but it turned her cheeks a cherry red that Dracula found very enjoyable.
"Oh it's just a, um, a term of endearment." She spoke quickly as if the more words she managed to squeeze in would save her from embarrassment. "But don't think on it, honestly, it's just habit. Memaw used to say it, along with her cribbage friends, and my old cooking instructor…It comes from 'cherie', the french word for 'dearest' or whatever."
She didn't appreciate how pleased he looked and he most definitely was. It was the little things, he mused silently, that made her squirm and fluster. Another piece to the puzzle he was starting to put together.
"You seem to be warming up to me quite quickly."
"Ever heard of 'Southern Hospitality'? Calling people babe or cher or honey is habitual because we have a friendly culture, nothing more, so don't get your hopes up, sweetie."
"I understand the social pleasantries, but that is beside the point." Dracula looked pointedly at their proximity in the booth. He was right, and she knew it, because who else in their right mind would willingly sit down and have brunch with an undead vampire warlord from the fourteenth century? Maybe she was crazy.
"Look, I don't know how to…be about everything. Seeing as this situation is a little bit out of my realm, I'm just going to be cautious and courteous lest I become a snack."
"I told you," The vampire huffed, "I'm not going to kill you yet. And besides, I wouldn't have you as a snack, no, my dear, you would be a full-on, fine-dining, four-course meal and I intend to make you last."
Her face deadpanned.
"Here you go, baby." The waitress chose the most opportune moment to arrive with the bloody mary. A godsend, truly. "I gave you an extra piece of bacon, sugar, in case y'all wanted to share."
With a not-very-subtle wink towards Dracula, she hobbled away again. Roxana rolled her eyes and immediately started gulping down half the beverage before munching the first sweetened slice of pig. "She's really laying it on thick, huh?"
"I can't help it that I'm irresistible."
"Oh I'm not so sure of that," She popped a pepper into her mouth. "I've been in your company for less than twenty-four hours and I can already tell you are insufferable."
"Roxana!" Dracula mocked gasped and placed his hand over his non-beating heart, garnering some attention from the nearby patrons, "You wound me."
"You'll survive, I'm sure." She polished off the rest of the drink and smiled widely at the noisy tourists. They immediately looked back down at their plates; the key was to always kill them with kindness. "Anyway, if you're finished with being a drama queen, please tell me more about this council and dinner and all that. We've been getting slightly off track."
The Count sighed and raked a hand through his hair, completely oblivious to the exchange, "Basically there is a peace treaty being put into place because apparently things are getting out of hand for the city. The mortals want accountability and the council is trying to solidify an agreement. And as far the dinner goes, I imagine there are going to be a few more people from Mr. Kendell's committee as well as the heads of Keres' council. We will all wine and dine, figuratively for the supernaturals, of course, we'll sign some papers and all the political nonsense, all while you graciously host us."
"And then it'll be over? I won't have to deal with any of this after that?"
"Are you already tiring of my company?" Dracula's brow crinkled upwards and made him akin to a large puppy dog, but she was not fooled. Without letting her answer, he heaved a sigh and continued. "Well, I'd imagine that afterward, at a later date, there will be a ball. Seeing as it should be around the time Mardi Gras starts to pick up, I believe it will be a grand affair. You will be invited, no doubt, Keres is nothing if not socially polite."
"Yeah, sure, that sounds safe." She was being sarcastic, but her interest piqued considerably. A gala for a supernatural and mortal peace treaty during Mardi Gras? Roxana would be lying if she said that wasn't the coolest thing she had ever heard of. Call it some sort of morbid fascination that seemed to be interred in her bones because she always did have an affinity towards dark and strange things.
"I'll admit, Keres can be a bit uptight and a tad pretentious, but let me tell you, that woman really knows how to throw a party!"
"What's the deal with you two anyway, y'all an item or something?"
"Why, are you jealous?" He smirked as she went to protest but cut her off with a lazy wave of his hand, "No, no, no, she is definitely not one of my brides."
That stopped Roxana in her tracks and she stared at him incredulously, "I'm sorry, did you say brides? Plural?"
"Yes." Dracula's brows rose innocently. "I never have more than three at a time."
"What the fu-?" She was cut off by a steaming plate placed in front of her face. The smell wafted up to her nose and she deeply inhaled the tantalizing scent, momentarily distracted from the beast across from her.
"Anything else, hun?" Where the waitress stood, Roxana could only see an angel sent down from the heavens.
"Another bloody and make it a double, please."
The woman nodded knowingly and was off again.
Roxana took a moment to stare at the beautiful dish and appreciate its display. The rose benedict was one of her favorite brunch items; the succulently poached egg perched on top of a fluffy and flaky biscuit baked to perfection, layered with fresh arugula, sliced tomatoes and avocados, a juicy alligator sausage link, and the homemade hollandaise sauce that was magnificent. It was all placed neatly over a bed of the cafe's famous rosemary grits.
Simply divine.
Dracula watched with intent as Roxana delicately used her knife to break open one of the eggs and the yolk oozed out over the side of the dish. With precise hands, she cut a piece that contained a little bit of everything and brought the fork to her mouth. As she bit down and closed her eyes, she let out a little moan that should not have affected him the way it did. He began to salivate as his eyes focused on how her tongue dipped out to lick the little bit left on the corner of her lip and they slowly drew downward towards her neck, where he could hear her heartbeat thump solidly beneath her flesh.
The cheery waitress came back with Roxana's drink; she thanked the older woman and took a large swig, her eyes closed briefly in happiness at how strongly poured the beverage was. Thank the gods for vodka, she thought gratefully and then brought her focus back to Dracula. "So are you saying you have three brides right now? That sounds exhausting. Honestly how could you have time to follow me around all day?"
"No, no, I'm currently in the market." He leaned close and spoke conspiratorially, "It's really not all that difficult, you see, they're fairly easy to control once put in their boxes."
"You're horrible."
"I'm joking," Dracula reclined back in his seat and laughed, "Haven't done that in a few hundred years. No, nowadays it's a bit more complex, isn't it?"
"Relationships?"
"If you want to call them that, sure." He said, watching her for a moment as she cut into the second egg with the same precision as the first. "I've had some difficulties acquiring the right bride."
"Maybe if you practiced a little respect and some monogamy, you might have more success." Roxana took a sip of water and then made a facial shrug, "Or if they're into polygamy, then that's fine. It's not my bag but to each their own. Though I will say, the whole box thing is really fucked up and you've definitely got to cut that shit out."
He found her candor endearing. "It is an attempt I'm making."
"Is that why you wasted the day stalking me?"
"I have an eternity. One day is insignificant and therefore cannot be wasted." As he spoke, one of his large hands waved about and emphasized his speech. "Besides I wasn't stalking, you passed by my window near the square and I had nothing better to do."
"You followed me all the way from there?!" The Count just shrugged and folded his hands together in his lap. She rolled her eyes, "You need to find yourself a hobby."
Roxana ate the last bite of her meal before polishing off the rest of her drink and set the empty glass down with a satisfied sigh. Her stomach was full and her head was beginning to enter the realm of that familiar warmth that only accompanied good liquor.
Again with impeccable service, the waitress swung by again to pick up the dirty dishes and asked if anything else was needed. Roxana ordered another double bloody to-go and the check. She then excused herself to go to the bathroom and Dracula sat back to observe his surroundings. Idle chatter and clinking utensils on plates filled filling the cafe, but the vampire could hear nothing more than a symphony of heartbeats all thumping in a wild orchestrated sonata. He was getting very hungry.
The Count took a deep breath and reminded himself to be patient. All good things come with time. His companion returned at the same time as the waitress and when Roxana grabbed the check, she noticed that Dracula had latched his claws onto the other side. "I'll take care of that."
"Oh no, you won't!"
He smirked as her eyes narrowed, "Oh yes, I will."
"You didn't even eat."
"And?"
"I pay my own way."
"I insist."
They both had leaned closer and closer, not willing to break eye-contact nor their vice grips on the bill. Dracula was incredibly amused. Roxana was not. The waitress's head bounced back and forth along with their verbal tennis match.
"I will make a scene." She all but growled, eyes narrowing.
"Please," He matched her tone, "I would love to see that."
A pause.
"Damn girl, just take the free meal!" The waitress decided to take the opportunity to cut in, "Give him a little lagniappe later, ya heard me? If you don't, well, sign me up, baby."
Needless to say, Roxana was not happy when she walked out of the cafe and stormed down the street. Dracula followed, looking as smug as ever with his hands in his pockets and a little grin on his face.
After a few blocks and a few more swigs from her cup, she finally let go of her pride and slowed to walk alongside him once more. The sun had begun to set, sending its red and orange hues across the city to cut in between streets and through windows. She loved this time of day. The refraction of the sun created a heady glow that felt like a soothing hug to one's soul.
"Where are we off to next?" Dracula looked down at her, noticing her shoulders weren't as rigid as they were when they left the restaurant.
"A nice lady in the bathroom told me about some little show down by the river, thought that sounded lovely."
He made a face, "Modern toilet etiquette is baffling."
"We were just washing our hands," Roxana laughed at the count's confused expression. "Though you're not wrong. A lot more goes on in bathrooms than just 'using the loo.'"
She mimicked his acquired accent and he was thrilled to see her back to her cheerful self. Until her eyes lit up with a curiosity that he was beginning to recognize and he could already tell where her mind was heading.
"Wait, do you -?"
"No."
"But I didn't-"
"No."
"Could you let me-?"
"No." He said, chuckling as she huffed in frustration. "I know what you're going to ask and the answer is no. I have no use for a toilet. Good thing too, apparently, because according to you, there are plenty of strange things that happen in those receptacles that I have no wish of engaging in."
"Eh, it's mostly people doing drugs. You're not missing much." They turned the corner, she brushed away some hair that blew in her face and took another sip. "Unless you're into drugs?"
Dracula grimaced, "Not particularly. It depends on the drug."
"How about alcohol?" She looked up at him and he shook his head no. "So why did you choose New Orleans? You do realize this is a party city, right?"
"Because I see that there is more to this city than what meets the eye." He spread his hands out wide, "Look around! New Orleans is a delicious cocktail of artists and scholars, fighters and doctors, saints and sinners - it is a plentiful orchard of every imaginable fruit and I would be remiss not to pluck the ripened morsels. The culture here promotes hedonism and I am simply embracing it."
He watched as she paused and looked thoughtfully a bush of jasmine flowers. There were hundreds of them lining the block and wafting around their fragrant aroma. She bent down to pluck a group of three and then turned towards him, walking up close, and tucking them gently in his breast pocket.
"What's this for?"
"Something sweet-smelling," She continued forward, "You're starting to stink up the neighborhood with your evil."
"It was a compliment of the highest form - I've actually become quite fond of this city!"
"Yeah? So stop eating its people!" Roxana called over her shoulder. Dracula laughed in disbelief; she definitely would be an interesting flavor and he was very eager to try.
Catching up to her quickly, they made their way across the quarter and over to the river. By the time they arrived, the night sky had crept in, chasing away the rest of daylight. A small crowd had gathered over by the steps along the riverbank and in the center were a couple of musicians with their small amplifiers; the band was jamming and the crowd was dancing away. The music was a bit too uptempo for Roxana's taste but she could appreciate that everyone was having a good time.
"Is this your style of music?" He asked as they sat down next to each other on a bench overlooking the impromptu show. She noticed how close he sat and how he positioned his body angled towards her with his arm draped behind her. Knowing he was going towards being incredibly invasive and unnerving, she was not about to admit defeat and refused to scoot back.
"No, I'm more of a blues or tragic rock 'n roll kind of gal. The sadder the better, I say."
"But you seem so…happy."
"Yeah, well, you seem like a gentleman, but we both know what you're really after here." She gave him a pointed look. "All of us wear masks, Mr. Balaur."
"Fair enough."
They sat for a while and watched the impromptu set until the sky grew darker and the city lights flickered awake. The heat of the sun disappeared along with it and brought in the chilly air once more. A swift reminder to Roxana that she only brought a thin coat. She chugged down the remainder of her drink, in hopes of creating some sort of liquor blanket, and pulled her jacket closer.
"As surprisingly nice this evening turned out to be, I need to get home. So I'm going to head out." She stood up and turned towards him.
"Would you like a ride?"
"No!" She said a little too loudly and then cleared her throat, blushing. "I mean, no that's fine, I'm just going take the streetcar."
"Nonsense, I can drive you, my car is close by."
"Seriously, I'm fine. Thank you, though."
"I'll accompany you to the streetcar then - and I won't take no for answer."
Roxana knew better than to even try and just spun on her heel, walking away and knowing that he would shortly keep up. They weaved back through the maze of the quarter towards the hub on Canal Street and maintained their amiable silence. Dracula kept a few steps distance from her and easily clung to the shadows. She thought it was strange, but made no comment. Must be his nature.
A few blocks from the bright and bustling main street, they were the only people walking around as they passed by a dimly lit parking garage. Where an attendant usually sat was only an empty booth and a single flickering light.
There was a flash of steel and suddenly a man appeared out from around the other side of the booth. He was wielding a knife. The guy pointed it at Roxana, not seeing Dracula in the darkness, and he gave her a grin that sent chills down her spine.
"Hey there, doll. Why don't we make this nice and easy?" His voice sounded like a kazoo made out of sandpaper; wheezy and scratchy and a tad too high-pitched.
Normally, this would be the moment she would grab her mace, spray, and run; but then she remembered the five-hundred-year-old genocidal bloodsucker creeping unseen behind this lunatic. Better the devil you know and all that.
"Hello."
The man jumped and pointed his weapon as Dracula materialized out of the shadows. "Where the fuck did you come from?"
"Wallachia."
"Bless you." Roxana couldn't stop the words from leaving her mouth and when he gave her an incredulous look, she just put a hand up in apology.
"Shut up, both of you, and give me what you've got." He waved the blade back and forth between the pair them. "Or I'll slice y'all right up!"
Dracula and Roxana exchanged looks. He took a deep breath and stepped towards the man. "Let's make a deal, hm? I'll give you what you want, if you give me what I want?"
"What? You crazy, old man?"
"No, no, not crazy, just a businessman." He smirked, "What do they say? Quid pro quo?"
"Well whatchu want then?"
"It's very simple, actually, I just need you to say 'yes'."
The man looked bewildered and faltered his grip a bit on the knife, "Why the fuck-?"
"Have you been drinking? On any drugs?"
"What're you a cop?
"No. I just don't like the taste." The count gave him a look and the man slowly shook his head. Compelled almost. "Good, now, back to business."
Dracula took another step closer and pulled out a rolled-up wad of money, raising his eyebrows and wagging it in the air. The guy gulped audibly, not able to take his eyes off of the prize cash.
"What…what did you want again?"
The vampire lowered his voice, "Just say 'yes'."
"…Yes?"
The tension was thick. Dracula smirked as he glanced over to see Roxana staring at them, her wide eyes with rapt attention. Oh he hoped she would enjoy the show. "That's good enough for me."
Frozen in horror, she watched as his eyes filled with a dark red, and his teeth extended to frightening lengths. He launched at the man with the knife and slapped the blade away, gripping the mortal effortlessly and latching his jaw around the tender neck. Sounds of hissing and slurping and growling battled the poor guy's cries of terror which bounced and echoed across the buildings.
She wasn't sure she could move even if she tried. Roxana just stood there and dumbly stared as Dracula drank his fill. After a few moments, she didn't know because time appeared to stand still, he looked to be finally sated. The count detached himself by brutally ripping out part of the muscle in the man's neck, making a show of spitting it across the sidewalk, and then tossed the body to the side like a useless rag doll. Even in the dark of the night, she could still see the smear of blood across his mouth and the pointy white teeth from his devilish grin.
He put the wad of money back in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at his cheek, acting as if nothing ever happened. Noting her shock, he just rose a single brow, "What?"
"What?" She mumbled and then shook her head roughly, snapping herself out of the daze. "What?! What do you mean? The fuck was that?!"
"He said yes. Verbal consent."
"You have no concept of what consent actually is."
"Oh come on, he was going to stab you, I saved your life." He stepped towards her and she could clearly see the blood now, it even tainted his teeth. She could smell it.
"You're a monster."
Dracula took another step into her personal space. "That's a terrible way to show gratitude."
The image began to repeat in her mind of his teeth tearing so viciously into the flesh and the blood dripping from the count's chin as he rolled his eyes back in ecstasy. Over and over and over again.
He noticed she had paled significantly and got a glazed look in her eyes, "Are you alright? You're not looking so well."
She felt it churn in her stomach and claw up her throat, and without any attempt to stop the inevitable, Roxana promptly vomited all over Count Dracula's fancy suit.
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Shadowed Hearts/Winter Souls (Chapter Twenty Five)
I love this particular version of Maria I’ve introduced here and feel like she might make an appearance in future fic. Holla for strong women in Tony’s life, right?
MASTERLIST
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Maria and Howard Stark came to Chioggia when the late spring winds were giving way to the temperate days of early summer, arriving in their carriage alongside Jarvis and Ana.
Tony came down the front steps to greet them, shaking Jarvis’s hand and allowing Ana to drag him down into a hug, only oophing mildly when she pinched him in the side and hissed, “I should hang you by that ridiculous hair, worrying me like this! And entire year? A year! How dare you!”
“Ana, amore mia.” Jarvis sighed and pulled the woman away. “Let Antonio see his family before you thrash him.”
“I’ve missed you.” Tony blew a kiss to the hilariously fierce woman and laughed when she only huffed and turned her nose up as if angry. Ana would never hold a grudge, she loved Tony just as much as Jarvis did, just as much as Howard and Maria---
“Papa.” Tony straightened up when his father stepped from the carriage. Howard Stark was larger than life, colder than ice, calculating and demanding and Tony steeled himself to hear Howard’s irritation or annoyance or even the casually cutting disdain his Papa had perfected over the years.
Tony steeled himself, but he never could have been ready to see tears in Howard’s eyes, nor could he have ever been ready to be grabbed up tight in a crushing hug and to hear his Papa’s voice break as Howard whispered, “My boy, pensavo di averti perso. I thought I lost you, I thought I lost you--”
“Move! Levati de mezzo! Move and let me hug him!” Maria shouted from the carriage and shoved at her husband until Howard moved enough for her to throw her arms around Tony as well, squeezing her son into a stranglehold and crying nearly hysterical into his ear. “Mio figlio, I’ve missed you, you finally came home, Antonio, Antonio you finally came home!”
“Mama.” Tony held his Mama tight and then took a deep breath and reached for Howard too. “Papa, I-- I’m sorry, I--”
“No no no.” Displaying a flash of that wonderful Carbonell temper, Maria shook her head violently and held Tony all the closer. “No, Antonio. You will not apologize. Broken hearts--”
“--make strangers of us all.” Howard finished and Tony clenched his jaw to muffle a sob when his Papa whispered. “And I’m sorry we did not recognize you when you were hurting, mio figlio, my son. I am sorry.”
“Antonio?” Wanda came to the doorway and stopped in surprise when she saw the extra people. “Oh Jarvis! Ben--benvenuto. We weren’t expecting visitors today!”  
“Oh!” Ana broke into smiles and rushed up the steps to hug Wanda. “Oh hello! Listen to you learning Italian, è meraviglioso, that is wonderful! I can imagine it’s much different than your Russian, hm?”
“I--” Wanda laughed a little as she hugged Ana back. “I am trying with my Italian, yes, thank you. And you must be Ana?”
“Yes, I am Ana and you!” Ana took both of Wanda’s hands and held them outspread, eyeing Wanda’s midsection approvingly. “I think perhaps mio marito exaggerated how far along you are! Jarvis assured me you were beautifully incinta but there is not even a bump to be seen! You don’t look as if you are expecting at all!”
“Oh!” Wanda’s eyes went comically wide as she stared at Jarvis over Ana’s head. “Oh my-- no no no, I am not--”
“Ana.” Tony disentangled himself from his parents, though he kept his hold on Maria’s hand and brought her over to Wanda. “No, Ana. This is not my wife. This is Wanda Maximoff, dalla familia Romanov. Mine and Natalia’s ward.”
“What?!” Ana whirled around and pointed a finger at Jarvis. “You told me Antonio’s wife had red hair and was stunningly beautiful! Surely there aren’t two women in this household that look--”  
She stopped talking abruptly when Natalia appeared in the doorway, red hair swept into a loose comb, beautiful features curious, one hand resting on the swell of her distinctly pregnant frame. “Antonio? Will you introduce me?”
“Oh.” Ana breathed, a sentiment echoed by both Howard and Maria. “Oh my. She is lovely.”
“Mama and Papa.” Tony kissed Maria’s knuckles, then let her hand go so he could reach for Natalia and walk her down the steps. “Ana. May I present my wife, the Lady Natalia Romanova, now Carbonell Stark. My love, this is my parents, Marchese Howard Eduardo--”
“Enough with the titles, we are family.” Maria insisted, holding out her hands for Natalia and drawing her close to dot kisses on each of her cheeks.. “Natalia, benvenuto in Italia, welcome to Italy and welcome to our family. You must call me Maria, and here is my husband, Howard. We are so happy--” Maria’s eyes filled with tears again as she placed a tentative palm on Natalia’s stomach. “Oh, we are so very happy to finally meet you!”
“Mama.” Tony said gently, winking at Natalia when she turned wide eyes in his direction. “Per favore, come inside the house. Ana, if you don’t mind helping Wanda with the tea, I will go and get Pietro.”
“Ah!” Ana scoffed. “He thinks I am still his maid, his nanny! Where are the servants?”
“Antonio does not keep servants.” Jarvis reminded her, offering one arm to his wife and another to Wanda. “Apparently our boy does his own chores these days.”
Ana and Maria bust into startled laughter as if the idea of Tony doing anything for himself was hysterical, and Tony only rolled his eyes and urged Natalia up the stairs again and into the parlor.
“No wonder you didn’t know how to chore, Antonio!” Wanda called teasingly. “Ana tells me you didn’t so much as feed yourself when you were growing up!”
“Ana’s memory must be failing her!” Tony called back. “I distinctly remember having to fight her for the last brownie after luncheons! I certainly fed myself then!”
In the kitchen, Ana and Wanda dissolved into giggles and Maria was laughing as well as she came up to link Natalia’s arm with her own, shooing Tony away. “Antonio, give me and Natalia a moment, go with your Papa to find Peter.”
“Pietro, Mama.” Tony corrected and Maria nodded, “Right, of course. Pietro. Go and find Pietro with your Papa and Antonio--”
Tony paused partway out the door when Maria sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “My little love. Come back quickly? I don’t want to be apart from you for too long.”
“I’ll be right back.” Tony promised, and kissed Maria’s forehead, then bent to do the same for Natalia. “Only a few minutes.”
“While the ladies are preparing tea, I will put our bags in the bedrooms.” Jarvis said helpfully, inclining his head towards Howard when Tony turned to him, ready to insist the butler come along as well. “It will not take three of us to fetch Master Pietro. Go on.”
Tony and Howard disappeared out towards the gardens and the sea, and Maria turned back to Natalia with a tremulous smile. “You must think I’m ridiculous, missing Antonio even though he is still on the property, only walking away for a minute or two.”
“No.” Natalia shook her head and tried to sound soothing. “No no, of course not. I cannot imagine missing Wanda or Pietro for a year and then having them back, only to watch them disappear out the door again. And certainly can’t imagine it with this one.” she patted her stomach, and Maria’s expression sharpened in curiosity. “I’m sure Antonio wants to be close to you as well. It is not ridiculous at all.”
“Perhaps you can tell if something else is ridiculous, then.” Maria straightened in the chair and pinned her with a look that made Natalia automatically straighten as well, her green eyes narrowing at the sudden change in the Marchesa.
A quick glance at the kitchen to be sure neither Wanda nor Ana were hovering in the door to listen, Natalia arched her eyebrow and motioned for Maria to proceed.
“Lady Romanova.” Maria began slowly. “I am thrilled Antonio has taken a wife, found a family of his own and of course, I am over the moon with happiness that he has finally come home again. But I know my child very well, and I know the baby you are carrying is not Antonio’s.”
Natalia’s bland expression didn’t so much as flicker as she answered, “The child is Antonio’s in every way that matters, and there is papers filed with the magistrate to that effect.”
“I don’t care about papers.” Maria stated flatly. “I am a Carbonell, Lady Romanova. In this part of the world, my family’s wishes are law. My husband likes to think the name Stark carries all the power but you would be wiser to fear my wrath. I know you took my Antonio away from the masquerade ball while he was vulnerable and heart broken, and if he wishes to claim this child as his own than I will welcome la bambina with open arms and spoil her absolutely rotten and enjoy every moment.”
Natalia opened her mouth to reply but Maria cut her off. “But be well aware, my dear. If you are going to mistreat Antonio’s heart, not even the Siberian winter will protect you from me, do you understand? It never bothered me that he loved a man, it will not bother me if he loves you as well. I will love this grandbaby whether she is obviously Antonio’s child or obviously someone else’s. But I will not tolerate anyone daring to break Antonio’s heart again.”
Maria leaned closer and murmured, “The last person to try and hurt my family suffered a terrible, terrible accident and is hardly ever seen in polite society anymore. I’d hate for that to be the case with you, especially since you are so very lovely.”
“Was the man Tiberius?” Natalia challenged, and Maria looked mildly impressed that she knew the name. “Or someone else who hurt your family?”
“Someone else.” Maria allowed, studying her nails in a show of faux boredom. “It has been many years since I’ve had to reach out and correct an injustice towards the Carbonell name, but that does not mean I am out of practice, capisci?”
“Capisco.” Natalia returned evenly. “I understand.”
“Have you ever lost anyone, Natalia?” Maria asked then. “Do you know the pain of thinking you will never see someone again? Because I have lived that every day of the last year, every morning wondering if that was the day I’d learn Antonio was never coming back. You understand that I am wary of the person who took him away, and why I would do anything to be sure he is safe now.”
“I understand.” Natalia said again, and then with an edge of steel in her words, “I know the pain of loss and the uncertainty that comes along with it. I know how far we are tempted to go to protect those we love, and even hell burns less intense than the wrath of a woman defending her family.”
“You talk of flames as if you know them well.” Maria challenged and Natalia retorted, “The last person to take part of my family away from me is ash in a field right now. I doused him in kerosene and watched him melt to nothing but bones. A kinder death than he deserved to be sure. I know flames well and have felt the burns myself. Do not talk to me of anger and loss and the need to protect.”
“Who did Antonio lose?” Maria changed the subject abruptly. “Who did he love and lose there in Sokovia? He is emptier now than he was after Ty, I can see it in his eyes. Who was it?”
“...my brother.” Natalia whispered, and for the first time since beginning the discussion, Maria’s lips turned down in sadness. “Antonio and I are married, but it is nothing but convenience and necessity. My heart is taken by others, and his belongs to...to my brother.”
Maria closed her eyes and Natalia couldn’t keep the pain from her voice as she finished, “I lost my loves, my brother, my home, and Antonio lost James. The twins lost Ronin and Samuel, who were father figures after their own parents were killed in the revolution. The three of us--”
She cleared her throat and corrected, “--the four of us lost far too many loved ones already. My Lady Carbonell Stark, I can assure you, losing anyone else might actually end me. What is left of my heart rests with Antonio and the twin and this child. What is left of his?” Natalia shrugged. “Will never be further hurt because of me.”
Maria was quiet only a few seconds, then she reached for Natalia’s hand with both of hers and clasped it gently. “You are welcome here, Natalia. I would apologize for what I said but I think you would say much the same thing in my position.”
“No apology is necessary, My Lady.” Natalia assured her. “I didn’t expect that particular speech from a woman such as yourself but people do not expect what they find from me either. I would have said all that and more, and ended the conversation with a knife on the table.”
“Ah.” Maria twitched aside her full skirt, revealing not only a rather risque split hem, but also the dagger strapped to her thigh. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to show anyone that.”
Natalia couldn’t help a smile, and lifted her own skirts to her just above her ankle to show Maria her own knife.
“And your girl, Wanda?” Maria pressed.
“She keeps one here.” Natalia tapped at the underside of her own wrist. “It is on a light spring and the cuff on all her gowns keeps it still. She unsnaps the cuff and the dagger moves forward, she takes the leather edge off the blade and plunges it into a man’s heart.”
“Ah, very good!” Maria’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hands in delight. “One day perhaps after we know each other a little better, I’ll have to tell you about my sister Margaret. She was a spy, you know. Before Antonio came along she used to sneak me out in the middle of the night to go on adventures!”
“My Lady Carbonell Stark.” Natalia said with a quiet laugh. “Once you and I know each other better, I will have plenty to share with you as well.”
“I already know more than you think, Black Widow.” Maria said just as quietly, but when Natalia’s eyes widened in a hint of panic, the woman was quick to finish, “But I look forward to hearing your stories all the same. I am happy the life of my son and my new grandchild--” she emphasized the word and Natalia’s shoulders sagged in relief. “--is in such capable hands.”
“You are not what I expected.” Natalia admitted as Wanda and Ana finally came in with tea. “But I think I am relieved anyway.”
“Hello again!” Ana set the tray of tea down with a flourish, then reached into her bodice and pulled out a flask. “I suppose this sort of discussion requires more than tea, don’t you think? Have we discussed knives and dead bodies yet?”
“We have.” Maria said smoothly, once again the picture of a perfectly proper noblewoman as she poured the tea. “Now we must chat about bambine and all the beautiful things we will purchase for the little one.”
“Dead bodies?” Wanda asked anxiously and Ana waved off her concerns with a light hearted, “Plenty of time for all that later, lovely. Maria and I and our friend Peggy raised the same sort of hell I’m sure you and your friends raise together!”
“Um--” Wanda’s pretty mouth fell open into an ‘o’. “I don’t think--”
“Ana, don’t scare the girl!” Maria scolded, taking the flask and dumping a healthy amount in her tea. “There will be time for family secrets later. Now let’s talk lace and ruffles for my new granddaughter.”
“You think it will be a girl too?” Natalia laughed softly and accepted a very very small amount from the flask in her tea as well. “Antonio is convinced.”
“The child is a girl.” Maria declared. “She must be. The Carbonell title is passed down dalle donne, from the matriarchs and I fully intend to give my granddaughter every penny of my money! The men can fuss if they want to!”
The women all laughed together and as Jarvis passed on his way to the kitchen, he smiled to himself over the noise. It was good to hear laughter in the Chioggia house again.
He could only hope Howard and Tony were getting along half as well.
****************
“I didn’t know the tree was still here.” Howard commented as he walked alongside Tony to find Pietro. “The bench you made as well?”
“When was the last time you were at Chioggia, Papa?” Tony picked up a pebble and tossed it over the side of the bluffs. “The bench is there, the tree is beautiful and flowering. It is lovely here.”
“This is a Carbonell property.” Howard reminded him. “Unless you and your Mama were here, I had no reason to come.” and then after another moment, “And I am sorry it took me so long to visit now. Three months we’ve known you were home and I found a thousand things to do in my work shop instead. Stark men, we-- we are not good at dealing with emozioni and I am worse than most. Your Mama begged me to come, threatened to come alone-- I am sorry it took us so long, Antonio.”
“...I am not sure who you are, or what you have done with my Papa…” Tony began and Howard laughed at him. “But I do not understand how the same man who told me to find una puttana and take a bottle of wine and forget Ty, is the same man apologizing for waiting to come see me.”
“Broken hearts make strangers of us all.” Howard said slowly, sadly. “I assumed you would treat heartbreak as I did-- drown it in a bottle and a willing body. I never thought you were so badly hurt to run away. Never thought I would spend a year wondering if my boy was gone and I wouldn’t have the chance to lay him to rest.”
The Marchese blew out a noisy breath. “I promised myself and your Mama that if you came home, I would be different.”
“A leopard cannot change it’s spots, Papa.” 
“But it can be domesticated, Antonio.” 
Tony sent a sidelong glance towards his father. “I am glad you have come to understand why I left, but you do not need to--”
“When it became obvious you were not coming home, I eliminated Tiberius from my business dealings.” Howard interrupted. “I could not stomach looking at him, knowing I had failed to listen to you, failed to--to protect you. If you bring la tua famiglia to Brescia, you will not find Tiberius at our dinner parties or day events. He has no part of our life, nor my business, you will never have to see him unless you seek him out yourself.”
“...thank you, Papa.”
“Your wife.” Howard cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Natalia. She is exquisite. I can see why you are taken with her. And a grandchild on the way? Your Mama is beside herself with excitement. I’m sure they are talking lace and doilies this very moment.”
“I’m sure.” Tony smiled to himself, thinking of his sweetly soft spoken Mama gushing over baby clothing. “Mama is so gentle, so happy with a bambina in her arms.”
“Gentle.” Howard smiled too, for an entirely different reason. “Uh yes, your mama is gentle. I’m sure she and your Natalia will be very good friends.”
“Ah.” Tony said a silent prayer that his Mama never found out about Natalia’s past. “I’m sure.”
“I’ve missed you, mio figlio.” Howard said then and Tony’s breath caught over a rush of emotion. “I am glad you are home.”
“I-- I’ve missed you too, Papa.”
“Then that is enough emotion for now?” Howard raised his eyebrows and Tony laughed. “Stark men are iron men, we are not used to all this.”
“No, no we are not.” Tony pointed ahead, then put his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply so Pietro would know they were coming. “Enough emotion, enough said for now. Come and meet Pietro.”
If Howard was shocked by Pietro’s bandages he didn’t show it, the formidable man for once tempering his own curiosity and usual brusqueness so he could sit on Pietro’s good side and offer him a smile, forgoing a handshake and instead putting his hand over his heart and inclining his head in a respectful greeting, telling Pietro, “Benvenuto, Pietro Maximoff. You are welcome here and to our family.”
Pietro dipped his head as well he could and answered, “Thank you, but it is Pietro Maximoff della casa di Carbonell Stark.”
“Of course.” Howard didn’t miss a beat, and if anything his smile grew. “Pietro Maximoff, of the house Carbonell Stark. Benvenuto, mio figlio.”
Tony watched his father being kinder than he’d ever been when Tony had lived at home, watched Pietro smile for the first time in a long time as Howard addressed him as a Carbonell Stark, and put a hand to his heart when Howard helped Pietro to his feet and suggested they “find the rest of our family and see about supper together.”
Tony hadn’t really believed it until right now--
But they really were going to be alright.
************
SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER
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Holy Hands | Houses With Teeth Update #2
HOLLA guess who’s back for another writing update!
If the title of this update seems unfamiliar--Houses With Teeth, what? who? when? why?--that’s because the last time I talked about this project on here was the first time, back in July! For a refresher, check out THIS very rambly post where I “intro” the project (very minimally as I had no idea what I was doing).
I still don’t know what I’m doing *exactly* but have made a semi-break through with this project and felt inclined to share. The last I spoke about HOUSES WITH TEETH at length was to vaguely describe what the project was. This book for those who don’t want to read the previous post, is the seventh book in my (very ongoing) series, Fostered. This book comes along five years after writing the first book in the series, after a major writing revolution.
I haven’t shared much about this on this blog because I wasn’t sure how to, but I really struggled with this project. HWT comes as the book after Rewired (book 6), which I finished drafting in March-ish of 2019. From then, until two days ago, I had no idea what I was doing with the series--if I could even continue it, and how I would continue it with all the changes my writing evolution presented. I chose to distract myself/keep busy with Moth Work, a spinoff of this series and my current novel, however, HWT sort of nagged in the back of my mind for many months. 
HWT is actually one of the reasons I ended book 6 so hastily! After getting a few ideas for new scenes, I fell in love with the idea of writing my protagonist Reeve in a city by herself, with new people we’d never met before. These rose-coloured glasses worked to my detriment, as the premature idea took over my decision-making process before I could properly understand what I wanted from it. 
After the end of Rewired, I thought everything was all fine and dandy! I had a new novel idea set up, ready to be written whenever I wanted. But something unplanned happened--I didn’t end up returning to the project. This is mostly because my desires for the book--whether to write it as a “real” book, or continue it as a semi-disjointed Fostered book (which isn’t shade to my past books, just the tea loool)--started to conflict. Though I started many openings (about 3k words of first scenes), nothing was sticking. I felt like I was misjudging my main character Reeve and making her more of a caricature than she really was. I feared I forgot who she was, and that her story was ending (scary!). 
This is where I (recently) found the root of the problem. My mischaracterization of Reeve worked against me, as I’d done exactly what I’d feared doing--misjudging who she was. It had been a long time since I’d written with Reeve, a character I’ve written with since I was thirteen, and though I felt I knew her, I also felt like I’d lost her in translation. While I was back home a few weeks ago, I began re-reading a few passages of book six to get a feel for a character, which helped, but didn’t cause any revelations. 
It was only a few days ago, when I helped @sarahkelsiwrites crack the plot of her novel that I felt an itch to try to crack mine as well. I first did this by paging through my (very minimal) notes for the book. This notes document consists basically of only two scene ideas I had that were a few thousand words long. Somehow, re-reading them helped me realize Reeve’s priorities, but most importantly, how much this book focuses on her vulnerabilities. It made me realize the root of her flamboyance toward the end of book six, and where her genuine side resided. 
So this leads to the actual update! 
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Let’s first chat setting, y’all. This was a hard call to make, because I’d initially determined Reeve was going to be in NYC at the start of the book. The problem is, I’m *very bad* at writing real places, especially places I don’t personally know well. The thought of having to engage a five character cast (which seems small, but in a big city where they could be doing other things, feels big), and also have to write in this city accurately made the realism of this book too much for me to handle. I’m all for realism! But I wasn’t prepared for the culture shock that was “welp these books used to take place in an unknown unlocated subway station” to “so this book takes place in a real city”. It made too many things too real for me, the time period included (which is another crisis)! Setting this whole book in NYC overwhelmed me and I knew I wouldn’t do it justice. 
The problem is, I’d planned this entire book around NYC. At the start of my initial plan of HWT, Reeve is supposed to live in an apartment above a bakery with two housemates who I’d already sort of gotten to know! I couldn’t just throw all of this away, especially since I’d set Moth Work in a direction toward NYC so everyone could meet up easily. So what did I do? After reading those initial notes I mentioned above, I made it all backstory. ;) And boy! Did this also crack the book open. 
This was the first revelation I had with HWT 2.0. Allowing myself to move the book out of this setting, but still have the important parts got me to ask myself why Reeve would move to a big city with a new identity, and oh, did the pot start stirring ITSELF. I then decided to create a smaller town just outside of NYC where I can run amuck, lol. The town’s name is Wicker (for now) which I don’t dislike, though it hasn’t grown on me. I’m very bad at making up town names, and after many attempts, I settled for a very real word?? Lol.
This post is getting long, so I won’t explain the story unless y’all want to know, but I came to the decision that in this town, our fave soft boi Foster would have a nice house and his ideal cottagecore life, and all would be SWELL. Until!! This leads to our very hasty summary:
After escaping a toxic relationship, twenty-year-old Reeve disappears for the second time in one summer. She’s drawn to Wicker, a mealy town outside New York City, whose disappearances of affluent girls has caught her attention. The day she arrives, a sinkhole buries one of them in the front yard of her new home, a fixer-upper she shares with estranged friend, Foster. Quickly she falls prey to speculation by herself and others, who try to connect her to the tragedy. And even stranger, false recognitions as the girl in the ground, and the many other missing Wicker girls make her feel more and more like one of them--these alluring unknown women. 
(A huge thanks to @sarahkelsiwrites​ for literally cracking this book open for me, and for all the conversations we’ve had regarding this project! Literally this book wouldn’t exist without Sarah!)
Now let’s get into the first thing I wrote for HWT 2.0!
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Holy Hands is the prologue of Houses With Teeth, and marks a milestone for the first prologue I’ve written! 
This prologue was a very impromptu thing. I drafted this a few days ago, and immediately felt something I’ve never felt writing any of the other (many) openings I’ve tested for HWT. It felt very right, but most importantly, I felt like I had Reeve back. It’s very possible for your own characters to hide from you (which is how I felt with Reeve), and though it’s taken very many months for her to really reveal herself to me, I’m so happy I’ve waited because I’ve never been so stoked to write her. 
As y’all know, Reeve is a bit of a no-bullshit kinda gal. The last chapter you would’ve seen her in, she was lounging in a motel bathroom drinking margaritas on her own and you know? We love that for her! Except, after that chapter, I couldn't figure out who she wanted to be--the ‘no fucks given’ woman in the bathtub, or the vulnerable, porous person she often was in earlier books. I love no fucks given Reeve, however, I think I got caught up in her no-fucks-givenness that I missed the time she does give fucks (which is! often!). This prologue really opened me up to her, and I feel a closeness to her that I haven’t felt in a long time. 
The prologue itself is rather short. It’s about 1300 words pre-edits, and I wrote it in! one! sitting! A phenomenon! We begin as Reeve is getting out of a taxi to enter her new home, AKA her old pal Foster’s house. She invites herself after a horrific encounter that scares her out of NYC and closer to her old pals (who she’s estranged herself from). Reeve outlines first, the disappearances of these affluent girls, and then fixates on Irene, her future housemate, whom Foster describes as many things that summer. Reeve is semi shook by Irene because she’s startlingly pretty and also startlingly looks like?? her?? (Reeve is just into herself? Who knew?)
Excerpts:
Here are a few excerpts from the prologue that I kinda dig! Here is the first paragraph:
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Four girls went missing the summer the ground opened up. I was the unofficial fifth. They were girls I knew, in some iteration at least. Girls who wore their hair down, collars up. Anklets from their football boyfriends, like voguish ball-and-chains, pretty lingerie no one would see for at least another decade. Things I’d never worn, but wanted to wear. They were wealthy girls with the kinds of parents who dressed them in tights and midi-skirts, sent them to boarding schools, paid for piano lessons just to display a trophy. Girls with parents who wanted synthetic children. Girls who lusted over the romance of marriage—the ultimate form of female liberation. Girls who cast spells with each other and chose their friends based on zodiac signs, the amounts of vowels in their names. Girls who kissed each other in secret and stayed missing until they wanted to be found. None of them knew me.
This is a description of Wicker (CW: a bit of a gory descriptor):
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That summer was pallid and bitter. Wicker sat in a valley an hour outside of New York City, and rarely caught sunshine. The locals explained it had always been like this—anemic, unexciting. Women came here to raise quieter children, and those quiet children threw stones at each other’s eyes to see who’d go blind first. The first one who did was found floating face-down in the creek behind the church and the women and children left hastily. It worked in waves like this: people coming, people going. Wicker was empty and both full—of the dead, and alive. I’d chosen it for this reason. 
Here’s an excerpt that comes right after the previous (all of these actually make up the first three paragraphs lol, TW: eating disorders):
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The cabbie I’d given the last of my savings to took my bag out of his car trunk and walked it up to the house. It was one of the few nice days in Wicker, one of the last while I was there. Sunshine slit my face in two as I watched myself in the cab’s reflection. I reached for my cigarettes and realized too late that I’d left them back at the apartment. That summer, I was the thinnest I’d been. The hollow ache of me more of a victory than a loss. I know why I stopped eating in those first two weeks, why every meal Foster would later serve me in that house felt cryptic, and it had something to do with the body they never fully recovered. I wasn’t hungry when I’d gotten to Wicker; I wasn’t hungry for a long time after.
Some Foster gentleness (I missed him!):
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Chickadees chattered in the birdfeeder Foster had set up a week earlier. Though I hadn’t been on the road long, the drive had exhausted me. The midafternoon clouds pilled, hardly overcast, something I’d come to miss when the sun stopped coming. He hadn’t invited me to live with him, but didn’t object when I called to say I’d be coming up. It was the first I’d spoken to anyone who knew me as Reeve and not Evie in half a year. That day, he greeted me from the porch and took my single carry-on from the cabbie with a boyish thank you. It was one of the last times I’d see him wear it—his bashful gentleness, like he always felt the need to apologize even when everything was brilliant. 
Here’s an intro of Irene, where the chapter title comes from:
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Irene sat at the kitchen table inside the house. I caught her in glances through the doorway. The first thing I thought was that she’d look better as a blonde. A small thing who held her mug like she was holding a holy object. I’d later be haunted by those hands when I remembered how they looked by the time she was partly pulled up. Foster described her as many things to him over the course of that summer: a housemate, a partner, a friend, sometimes just a person he knew. She was reading something, something French—I could hear her reciting parts of it, at times loudly, like she knew she had an audience, at times at just a whisper, the most personal parts, I later found. I’d translate the line I’d heard most prominently later: Don’t let the house consume you. 
“Cigarettes?” I said to the cab driver as he was nestling back into his car. When he didn’t hear me, I knocked on his window. The sound of it made Irene’s head bob to attention, though only for a moment. “Cigarettes?” I mimed smoking one when he only blinked at me. We spoke minimally on the drive up, though I learned more about him just by looking. Two daughters, their pictures pasted neatly on the dash. Candy coloured flyers for take-out restaurants jittering against the AC’s shutter. In all that time, I hadn’t learned his name.
When he rolled up the window, I had to jump back so my nose didn’t get clipped. The sun shifted through the glass in wisps, like cobwebs, and my face disintegrating from the surface of the glass was the last thing I saw before he zipped away.
I was surprised to see Irene standing on the porch next to Foster when I looked up. My cheeks warmed. The cabbie’s drive-off had embarrassed me, and I realized how I looked to her, a woman I didn’t know, that I already wanted to know. A bit pathetic. Frazzled. A city person who couldn’t navigate a city. A weak woman—already needing a fix on her first day of a new life.
“I’m quitting,” I said, even though she hadn’t said anything. In the sunshine, she was prettier than I wanted her to be. Her hair hip-length, a length I’d always been too impatient to achieve. Wearing a camisole and a midi-skirt. Pearls in her ears, like the others wore. In New York City, she would’ve been plain to me. The kind of girl I would’ve marked up with a pen in a magazine. Outlining her hips as to say they weren’t good enough, squiggling over her eyebrows because her face was too pretty for a body so average. It wasn’t long after she was gone that I became mistaken for her.
And here’s a bit from the very end of the chapter:
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The ground opened like a cracked egg, so slow at first, I didn’t notice. Some say she pushed me. Others say it was the other way around. It melted under us, and one minute I was thinking about how embarrassing I was, how crude it was to still be addicted to cigarettes, and the next, there was a belly in the ground and Irene was somewhere in it. Her dark hair wisping around her, like a tornado. How I thought she’d look better as a blonde. Holy hands, camisole, midi-skirt, pearls in her ears. This was all I’d ever know of Irene. A body was found the summer the ground opened up. I still don’t know exactly who she was.
So that’s it for now y’all! Obviously lots of stuff is subject to change, but I’m finally feeling confident with this path (if I scrap all of this you will know lol)! I’m very excited for this book, and hope to take some more notes on it soon to see where it will go. For now, I’ve got an idea for the first chapter I can play around with, but I hope y’all enjoyed this little piece so far!
--Rachel
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INTERLUDE I: NOLA MEETS ERIK
July 2003
“Are you sure you want to go to school all the way in Los Angeles?” Papa Simon asked from my doorway as I began packing up my room.
“Dad, we’ve had this conversation already. This is my dream school and they gave me a full-ride scholarship. How could I possibly turn it down?”
“I know, Skybear, but Papa Ruben and I are gonna miss you so much. You’ve never gone this far away before.”
“You’re right, I haven’t but that’s all the more reason for me to go, right? I have dreams and things that I want to accomplish and unfortunately, I can’t accomplish them here.”
“Simon, leave that girl alone. She knows what she’s doing and we’re only a phone call and a plane ride away should she ever decide she wants to come back home, right baby?” I smiled wide, knowing my Papa Ruben would always come through with the defense.
“Right, Daddy. I love you both.”
“And we love you too, sweetheart. Let’s get these bags packed.”
----------------
Present Day
“Sky!”
“What?!” My head snapped up quickly, completely distorting the design I was currently working on. I was testing a 3D dildo generator for my website. The tool would basically allow potential shoppers to design their own dildo or strap-on and it would be 3D printed and shipped to them. Thanks to Shea and her outburst, mine was now a whopping 15 inches long.. whoops.
“My bad, didn’t mean to scare you, you just didn’t answer my question.”
“Repeat it, I was working on something.”
“I asked how you and Dr. Nigga met. Y’all strike me as failed lovers.” I laughed at her comparison. She was partially right, but there was more to it than that.
“We weren’t lovers, but we have messed around. We went to the same college, The Sigmund Freud School of Psychology and Psychosexuality in LA. He was a sophomore, and I was technically a freshman although I had already taken all of my gen-ed classes thanks to a dual enrollment program at my high school. He was helping the underclassmen move into their dorms and as soon as my dad laid eyes on him, he goes ‘He looks like his dick ruins lives’.” O’Shea cackled, nodding her head in agreeance.
“Was that Papa Ruben? I feel like Papa Ruben said that and Papa Ruben is never wrong.” I nodded, because she was right. One thing about my dad, he could always spot a snake in the grass and his accuracy was unmatched.
“That was definitely Papa Ruben and all me and Papa Simon did was laugh because although it was hot outside, he still looked like a super fuck nigga. He had on a black muscle shirt, body and tattoos gleaming because of sweat, black and red basketball shorts with matching Jordans and that damn Cuban around his neck.”
“Wait that nigga got tattoos?!”
“Yesh.”
“Did he have the fronts back then too?”
“Yes ma’am, but he had top and bottom ones. A bitch was hot!” I explained, fanning myself. “Anyway, he comes over and introduces himself to my dads before taking my trunk of clothes from Papa Simon. He smiled that pretty ass smile at me and in true Erik fashion, tried to flirt. Now mind you, I definitely thought this nigga was fine as fuck, but back then I was still figuring out who I was and what I liked so I lowkey dismissed him. Not on purpose, but it happened. To my surprise, he simply laughed it off and continued helping me take my stuff to my room. He even mounted my tv and showed me where my classes were. Like he was a genuinely nice guy. Fast forward to the second semester of my freshman year, we have the same psychology class because, again, I had already taken all my gen-ed classes. We were almost always paired together on projects because of our intelligence, another reason his ass stayed trying to holla. One day he asked me why I never responded to his advances, seeing as how it was clear that I was feeling him. Which I was, but I was also feeling someone else too, I just didn’t know how to tell him. I avoided him and the question for about a week until he cornered me in the library and demanded that I give him an answer. I smiled sweetly, looked him square in the eye and told him that I wanted to fuck his girlfriend.” I looked over at O’Shea and she looked back at me like I had grown 3 heads.
“Bitch no you didn’t tell him that!”
“What? He asked, hell. This was like the second semester of my sophomore year and by this time I had had a few girls and boys and I realized that I preferred women because they were softer and I understood them better. I didn’t and still don’t have time for the fragile ego of a man.”
“So what did he say to that?” I paused briefly, thinking back to that night in the library.
“Did you seriously just tell me that the reason you don’t wanna fuck wit a nigga is because you wanna fuck my girl? What kinda shit is that, Nola?”
“You asked. I figured you wanted my honest answer.” He kept me pinned against the bookshelf, his eyes searching mine for any hint of a lie. He finally let me go once he found none.
“You something else, Nola.”
“My parents named me Skylar.”
“And your best friend named you Nola. See you in class.” He winked at me, flashing that million dollar smile and walked out of the library, leaving me a little more than hot and bothered.
“He laughed and told me that I was something serious and let me go on about my business. At some point during my junior year we developed a friends with benefits type relationship because 1.) We were both single and wanted to remain single and 2.) His dick was very bomb. I even taught him how to eat pussy.
“You taught him that?!”
“Yes ma’am. At first all he would do was rub and suck the clit aggressively. I was the one that taught him that he had to lick every part of the pussy, get it nice and wet and flick the clit with his tongue.”
“Ok, you can stop talking now. I haven’t talked to this nigga all day and I intend to keep it that way,” Shea interrupted, crossing her legs.
“Papa Simon was kinda disappointed that we didn’t end up together, but he also loved my ex, so I guess it balanced out.”
“I was meaning to ask, what happened with that?”
“That’s another story for another day,” I concluded, not wanting to take a dive into my feels especially since I had so much to work on.
“Ok so tomorrow then?” She tried again. I shook my head, knowing this conversation wouldn’t die until I spilled the beans about Monica.
“Fine, I’ll tell you tomorrow, now tell me about your date with Fathead.” Shea rolled her eyes, as she had been actively avoiding this conversation, not wanting to relieve the horrific incident that she was sure almost ended whatever it was she had going with Erik.
“It started off fairly well with him teasing me about how much I love ice cream and him calling me a child because I wanted to watch Hercules.”
“Fuckin’ child,” I responded out of habit.
“Shut up! That’s the same thing he said!” O’Shea pouted, crossing her arms over her chest for further emphasis of her point.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Please continue,” I coaxed, rubbing her arm to let her know I was done being an ass.
“Anyway, we basically had a whole Disney marathon. We watched Hercules, then Mulan, then The Emperor’s New Groove and were getting dummy high the whole time. So midway through Kuzco’s shenanigans, I tried my luck with him again because I saw how mellow he got when he was high. Like I was even able to fully appreciate how good he looked when he wasn’t in a suit and tie. Your best friend is a work of art, sis.”
“Oh, I know,” I said with a smirk.
“So I’m just sitting there, practically drooling over the bulge in his pants and this nigga looks at me with the straightest face and asks if I’m gonna suck it or just stare at it.”
“And I oop! That wasn’t Erik, sis. That was Killmonger.”
“Who?”
“Don’t worry about it, finish the story.”
“So, not one to back down from a challenge, I dropped to my knees and started doing the Lord’s work. He’s loving the shit, too. He’s cursing and moaning and praising me, telling me how much of a good job I’m doing. The shit was great. Then just as I was finding my groove, I fucked up.”
“What you mean you fucked up?” O’Shea paused and I could tell that she was having a hard time continuing, but she did anyway.
“I’m not sure how it happened, but his dick got caught in my braces.” I didn’t want to, but I simply could not help the screech that left my lips at the mental image of Erik losing his shit about his dick being caught in her braces.
“Did he cry?” I managed to choke out through my laughing fit.
“No, but he was pissed. Like so pissed that he got up and left.” I stopped laughing then. How dare he leave her in such a vulnerable state knowing what he knows about her little personalities and how they operate. Shea must’ve caught my mood change and quickly came to his defense.
“He made up for it, though! He came and picked me up and we talked about it and then we went and got ice cream.”
“Of course he made up with ice cream.”
“Aaand he took me to Disneyland and got me this.” She held up her wrist so that I could see the charm bracelet in all of its glory.
“Oh that’s beautiful. I’ll be back in a little bit, I have a 12:00 meeting with Dr. Nigga.” I quickly grabbed my bag and keys and headed out the door. Dr. Stevens and I had a few things that needed discussing.
TAGS:
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Imagine.
Erik getting Jealous of his BF’s guy best friend.
//////
Yeah Erik had a long ass work week but he did plan on turning up with his boys, especially his best friend CJ. That was his Rollie since elementary school. Wasn’t a thing Erik wouldn’t do for him, that was like his brother from another mother. CJ was a Party Promoter in LA and him and Erik worked on projects together.
He made it home in one piece, ready to take off the hot ass suit he had to wear. Heading to his chefs kitchen, he pulled out a fresh bottle of Hennessy with two shot glasses. CJ was his pre game partner. Fuck the other niggas they rolled with, Erik and CJ were the life of the party. Just like the saying goes, Bros before Hoes. Taking a quick shower, Erik made his way towards his walk in closet, scanning his selection for the hottest gear. The latest and the greatest. Wearing his fresh Versace silk top with his MNML black distressed denim jeans, he fixed his dreads, putting his gold rimmed luxury glasses on that he wore sometimes when he went out. He felt like wearing diamonds so he decked himself out with a white gold diamond chain with a matching diamond pinkie ring and bottom grill. It was extremely flashy but Erik’s crew were known for being the sexiest and flyest niggas in LA.
Checking himself one last time in his full length mirror before taking a quick thirst trap for the gram, Erik sprayed a little bit of cologne on his neck, chest, and wrists, heading back downstairs to get the bottle opened before CJ came through. Speaking of the devil, he got a FaceTime call from that nigga.
Erik: YOOOO! What’s good, bro? Man, we out here tonight right?
CJ: Shit, you know that’s how we do on a Friday night, Kill. Is it good to come through?
Erik: Yeah it’s good. Got the bottle ready when you get here, nigga.
CJ: My nigga, I’ll see you in about five minutes.
—————-
CJ: Yo, Erik, this my good homie Dax. Dax, this is Erik. Remember I was telling you about the brother I had from another mother, that’s this funny looking ass nigga here.
Erik: *kisses his teeth* says the nigga that been jocking me since we were 6.
Dax: Wassup, *gives Erik a dab* nice to meet you.
Dax and CJ already looked turnt and Erik was still sober.
Erik: what the fuck y’all niggas was drinking on something?
CJ: A little but not too much. Dax is my weed plug. He the best in LA. We made a stop at the new strip club downtown. Shit is live, bro.
Erik: *scrunches eyebrows* nigga, we was supposed to hit that shit up and now you rolling without me?
Dax: wasn’t much to see, bitches was weak. No ass in sight.
CJ: Chill, It’s only the first night. Let them get settled and watch all the fine bitches with ass be up in there.
Erik: *huffs* whatever, y’all wanna drink or what?
All three men had about three shots before calling up an Uber since driving wasn’t an option tonight. The Uber XL arrived and the finest chick Erik seen in a while was the driver. She was chocolate, long silky frontal with a fitted black dress on. She had eyes like Rihanna and lips like Megan good.
Erik: Damn, you sexy.
Uber Driver: *blushes* Thank you.
Erik: Now ain’t you lucky to be driving us tonight.
Erik was about to make himself comfortable in the front until Dax pulled up first all loud.
Dax: Roxanne? Lil Roxy?! Damn girl look at you!
Roxy: Dax!!! *smiles wide* sit up front.
Erik glares at the back of Dax head, making his way to the back. Once they all were comfortable, Roxy took off.
Roxy: Dax, *looks at him hungrily* Your fine chocolate ass been hiding from me?
Dax: I told you when you want me come through I’ll take care of you, *strokes her thigh* you know I miss all that.
Erik closed his eyes, resting his head back. Damn, the nigga Dax stole his chance to holla at Roxy. So far, this nigga was raining on his parade. If he wasn’t here, Erik would have another bitch to turn to.
Erik: Yo, Dax, where you from?
Dax: New Orleans originally.
Erik: Why LA?
Dax: Just needed a change.
CJ: Yo Dax we still down for Nola next month? I’m tryna turn up.
Dax: You already know. I gotta show you my city.
Erik: *sits up with a foggy brain from drinking* Nola? Nigga what happened to Miami?
CJ: *ponders* Ohhhh, Damn, Kill. Shit, that slipped my mind. I already booked a flight to Nola. Maybe later that month we can go.
Erik: Nigga you know I’m the CFO of the wakandan Outreach, right? So THAT MEANS that I got shit to do. We already planned this shit now you going to Nola. lame ass nigga.
CJ: Erik, Chill the fuck out, how many times we do shit together? You acting like a whiny bitch.
Erik: *flares with anger* WHO A BITCH CJ?
Dax: Damn, Kill got a temper.
CJ: Chill out, E. We don’t wanna scare the pretty lady.
Roxy: *laughs* It’s cool, I like aggression.
Erik: Girl revert that shit on your passenger sitting next to you. I ain’t interested.
Roxy: *stares at Erik angrily*
CJ: Roxy, meet Drunk Kill. *laughs*
Erik: FUCK YOU. Where the bottle at?
————
Clearly wherever they were headed it was a regular spot for Dax. The VIP was live with all his peoples and apparently CJ knew them as well. When did this nigga find the time to befriend Dax? The shit was irritating.
Random person: AYE! ITS DAX AND CJ!
Random person 2: wassup, Dax, CJ, and...who you?
Erik: ....
CJ: This is Erik, my best friend and brother.
Erik: *scuffs, picking up a bottle of Dussé off ice, taking it to the head.*
Random person: He good?
CJ: Yeah, that’s just Kill.
Erik was clearly more interesting than the niggas in the VIP including CJ, but all the bitches who came in were all over DAX. Who THE HELL was this nigga? Erik thought he was just CJ’s weed man.
Erik: Y’all dry I’m heading to the floor.
CJ: You dancing? *laughs*
Erik: Yeah, nigga. Got a problem with that? *stumbles out of VIP*
CJ: Yeah, cus you ain’t got no coordination.
*everyone laughs in unison, Dax harder*
Erik: LETS SEE IF YOU SAY THAT NEXT TIME WHILE IM IN YOUR BITCH!
———
The dance floor worked for a while, Erik dancing with a fine ass chick for a little bit. They exchanged numbers but Erik wasn’t sure if he would call. Making his way back to VIP, he didn’t see CJ or Dax anymore, looking around with a confused expression.
Erik: where these niggas go?
That’s when Erik heard Dax laugh. He turned to the source of annoyance, spotting Dax and CJ talking to what looked to be YG. For some reason, this bothered the fuck out of Erik. He made his way out of VIP, walking over to them. Apparently, Erik walked up on a promotion deal. Dax knew YG personally and this made CJ happy. Erik wanted to punch that nigga Dax in the face. He was CJ’s right hand man in promotions. He made connections when CJ fell short. It was as if Dax was replacing him. Erik wouldn’t dare admit it because of his pride but he was getting jealous of dumb ass Dax. The nigga wasn’t no KILLMONGER but the relationship with CJ made Erik feel like he didn’t matter anymore. They were supposed to be brothers.
Erik: Yo, CJ, ima head out bruh.
CJ: Drunk and by yourself? nigga wait for me.
Erik: Nah, I’m not feeling it.
CJ: not feeling it? *looks at Erik with humor*
Dax: DAMN, we was ready to roll to another spot. I guess you can’t hang, Erik.
Erik: *puffs out chest with rage* Nigga don’t talk about me when you don’t know shit about me.
Dax: CJ, your boy is a hot head *laughs*
Erik: Oh yeah *smiles darkly* I’m more than a hothead, Dax. They don’t call me Kill for nothing.
CJ: *steps in between* OK OK that’s enough. Y’all niggas need to stop weighing dicks and chill the fuck out. Erik, let me holla at you real quick.
Erik: *follows behind CJ*
CJ: you good?
Erik: Ask me that shit again and watch what happen.
CJ: *snatches bottle from Erik’s hand* Erik, calm the fuck down. What’s your problem with Dax?
Erik: my problem is that nigga can’t roll with us no more. Fuck that nigga. He think he apart of the crew. Nigga ain’t even close.
CJ: *laughs hysterically* Nigga, are you jealous of Dax and me hanging?
Erik: *looks at CJ with wide eyes* FUCK ASS NO! You stupid, nigga?
CJ: Nah, I might be a little drunk but I ain’t stupid. You really jealous of Dax though?
Erik: *groans loudly* You making moves and shit without telling me and this nigga know about it before I do. Yeah, that shit got me bothered.
CJ: Erik. Who said I was making moves with him? Dax is just cool peoples that’s it. Ain’t nobody replacing you, Bro. Cut that shit out. Don’t have me thinking you going soft and shit. I already started thinking that when you adopted those two kittens.
Erik: *glares* FUCK YOU.
CJ: Aye, in all seriousness, bro, Don’t worry about that shit. You’re Erik Killmonger Stevens. If anything, from what Dax heard about you, he wanna be like you more than you know.
Erik: *stares at CJ with interest* how you figure that?
CJ: well... the nigga IS acting like you. He ain’t usually this bold.
Erik: FUCK, I knew it was some shit with him. *shakes his *head*
CJ: listen, instead of letting Dax shit on you, cuz, you know, *punches Erik’s shoulder* You Killmonger, Show that nigga how you really do it. And remember, ain’t nobody replacing my brother.
Erik: *laughs* Thanks man,
CJ: *shakes his head, handing Erik his bottle back* So can we get back to the fucking turn up?
Erik: Nigga, what you think?
CJ: My Nigga *does secret handshake*
Erik: I Hope ain’t no bitches see that.
CJ: *looks around cautiously* Yeah, me too.
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chromecutie · 4 years
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Not A Ghost - part 29
A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.
Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.
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Rhonda tugged at the ugly yellow jumpsuit. Somehow, the Department of Mutant Control had gotten uglier and more uncomfortable jumpsuits. She growled under her breath, "Upgraded the collars, downgraded the clothes. What else did they cut corners on to cover these?"
Wade chirped, "Good ol' privatized prisons! Gotta love 'em, right Jackboot Thug Number Three?" He nudged the guard who was ushering them to the mess hall.
Jackboot Thug Number Three was not amused and hit Wade with the cattle prod he carried. With a pained yelp, he crumpled to his knees on the metal grate they walked on. Rhonda slowed, but didn't stop for fear she'd get hit next. Hair still cold and wet from when the officers hosed her off, she shivered. Wade groaned his way back to his feet, "He's a little spicier than you, Pikachu." He played it cool, but his coughing was worrisome.
The Icebox itself looked mostly how Rhonda remembered it. Chilly, hard surfaces everywhere so even quiet sounds echoed extensively. The areas that Cable had broken through only a matter of months ago had been repaired, but were done with functionality in mind and not uniformity with the rest of the facility. Rebar, concrete, and steel jutted at rough angles. Guards stood watch near many of the repaired areas, making it difficult for inmates to try to investigate if there were any weaknesses.
Passing by a group of inmates, Rhonda only recognized a few, but those gave her dirtier looks than the ones she didn’t know. A man with red-rimmed eyes bared his teeth - filed to points - and hissed at her. Showing infinitely more confidence than she felt, Rhonda said, “Hello to you too, snaggletooth. Miss me?”
 A buzzing alarm rang, and inmates flowed around Rhonda, Wade, and their officer escort to the mess hall. “Go ahead,” their officer said gruffly. “Don’t start any shit in there or I will let you die.” Jackboot Thug Number Three melted away into the crowd, leaving Wade and Rhonda to exchange a look.
“Okay,” Wade was way too cheerful, “Let’s get our lunch trays and figure out which cool kids we can sit with.” 
“Nobody, Wade,” she answered flatly as they got in line for food. “I can’t sit with anybody here.”
The other inmates gave them a wide berth. Trays clacked and slid along the metal rails, and even though everyone was hungry, no one got too close to Rhonda. Wade muttered out of the side of his mouth, “Jesus, what did you do, huh?”
“Not here,” her voice was so raspy she was barely audible when she spoke quietly.
The food that was scooped and plopped onto their plates was beige and barely warm. The mess hall staff said it was beef and noodles, but whatever was passing for beef was too pale. There was also a small scoop of green beans - somehow worse than the canned kind, a half an orange that was dry like it had been cut days ago, and the Icebox’s trademark little chocolate pudding cup. “Still better than my piece of shit dad used to make,” Wade shrugged. Rhonda sighed, remembering why some days she had simply opted out of eating. Something tugged and twisted in her heart.
Shoulders up and head down, Rhonda held her tray close, such as it was, and scanned for a table they could take. As they walked past each one, inmates would spread their elbows or scoot a few inches so they all took up more room than they needed. Making an executive decision, Rhonda planted herself at the end of a table, and if the inmates there wanted a bubble around her, they would have to make one. As Wade settled in across from her, the wiry men who were there first scooted a few inches to put some distance between them.
With no appetite, Rhonda started to force down the food. The noodles were too soft, the meat too salty, though it was pretty much the only flavor on the whole plate. She tried the green beans and had to keep herself from gagging. Why were they slimy? Taking a deep breath, she was still deciding whether she would bother trying the orange, when heavy footsteps stomped from across the mess hall and stopped a few feet away from her table. 
“New bitches give me their pudding,” a deep voice echoed through the room and somehow managed to sound a little whiny.
“Ooh, here we go!” Wade said gleefully as he bit into the rind of his orange like it was an apple. 
She briefly closed her eyes and shook her head, her heart already surging with adrenaline. “We’re not new,” she replied, just loudly enough to be heard.
“Oh?” the deep voice grew louder and he took a couple steps. “Because I ain’t seen you here. Where the hell you been if you ain’t new?”
Rhonda fought to keep her breathing slow, controlled. “I’m not gonna spend time explaining myself to idiots.” She glanced over her shoulder, just to gauge this petulant aggressor. 
He was meaty, had a bit of a gut. There was a big burn scar on his face, which spread down his neck and trailed under his collar. His breathing was heavy, though he didn't look like he'd recently exerted himself. His face started turning red as he huffed, "Listen, bitch. You're new, and I'm gonna get your pudding."
Looking back to Wade before the man was even done talking, Rhonda rolled her eyes and shook her head. She knew this type all too well. No amount of conflict de-escalation could salvage this conversation. "Play your intimidation show with someone else." She wasn't loud, but her dry throat sounded like she'd just drank cement mix. Her tone was flat, neutral. Unfortunately, belligerent idiots still hear neutral as combative. Especially when other inmates start snickering.
The red-faced brute came hurtling his full force at Rhonda, and at the last second she swung her legs around the end of the bench, spinning to her feet. She grabbed the man by the back of his head and slammed his face into the edge of the metal table--to a sickening, wet crunch of his teeth breaking. Pieces of his teeth flew over the table. He howled in shock and pain, blood pouring from his mouth, lips busted.
Rhonda shoved him away from her, onto the floor. She picked up her little plastic cup of pudding--the only not-terrible thing in the Icebox and the single hottest commodity--and threw the damn thing on the ground with her whole strength, close to the man’s head. The foil seal broke and pudding splattered over the concrete floor. 
The rest of the inmates stopped laughing and fell silent, watching.
Rhonda wanted to roar and shout, but her throat was too sore, voice too hoarse. Instead, she croaked at the man moaning on the ground, “If you want my pudding so bad, you will lick it off the fucking floor.” When he didn’t move, she tangled her fist in his hair and shoved his face in it, snarling, “Go on, lick it! I’ll wait.” 
He made pitiful sounds, and after some hesitation, finally started licking it off the floor. 
“Wade, come piss on this idiot,” she waved him over.
He winced and balked, “Aw, come on, it hurts to pee!”
She answered him with a glare that very clearly said, Motherfucker, do not test me here or I will make an example of you.
He gave a whining groan like a kid being told to take out the trash, and crossed over to piss on the man who attacked Rhonda.
She searched the immediate area and picked up the broken pieces of teeth from the table and floor. Rattling them in her hand, she raised her voice just loud enough for the other inmates (though it hurt to speak), “Next person who touches me eats these teeth.”
When there was no answer, the inmates resumed their meals and Rhonda and Wade returned to their seats. She forced down her food, despite her nausea, and hoped she didn’t regret it later. 
“Soooo,” Wade raised his eyebrows and picked at his food, “Guess I’m never stealing any french fries from your Happy Meal. Food aggressive, much?”
She chewed her next few bites just as little as she could get away with in order to swallow her food, before giving up eating any more. “If we have the slightest chance for survival,” she said, “We’re gonna have to get control over as much of the prison as possible.”
“Sooner’s better than later,” Wade agreed. “We don’t know what kind of timeline we have.”
Scanning the room with the corner of her eye, Rhonda observed, "You see the tall, skinny guy with the blue hair?" When Wade confirmed, she continued, "He's sitting with the Vicious 13. Last time I was here, he was high-ranking with the Red Disciples." She stole a glance around the room. "I don't see who I'd expect for the Disciples, so something happened. We need to find what."
They finished their meals and as they returned their trays, the other inmates gave them sideways glances. It was respectful - sort of - like the way all animals must drink during a drought, and there will be surprising moments of tenuous peace. However, as people clustered to return trays was also a good time for a whole gang to shank one victim and then disperse with no one sure who did the attack. When neither Rhonda nor Wade was stabbed, she was sure the semi-respectful glances were the other inmates sizing her up, calculating who could take her down, when, and how.
“I see it too,” Wade’s voice was low in her ear, “Come on.” He pinched part of her jumpsuit to lead her to a less crowded part of the mess hall, less obvious than taking her by the elbow. They could hear the tiny rattle and rustle of the teeth fragments in Rhonda’s pocket. Her exterior looked calm enough, but her heart was pounding and she kept every muscle tensed just to keep from trembling. When they were out of everyone’s arm’s reach, Wade had a coughing fit. It was a deep, choppy cough that wracked his body.
Rhonda put a hand on his shoulder, brows creasing, “What’s wrong?”
Wade groaned as his cough subsided, “Probably a bunch of fuckin’ tumors. I didn’t tell you my superpower is just not dying of cancer?”
Realization dawned and turned to horror on her face. “So the collar...Wade! Why did you jump in on this?”
A guard barked, “Inmates! Turn in for the night. Lights out in one hour.”
Clearing his throat to stave off another coughing fit, he answered, “Because I’m the right choice. If Cable’s cut off from his powers, his metal arm will become his metal everything; we already covered how Colossus wouldn’t make it a day without getting his shit wrecked. Maybe Domino would get by fine, but I know the Icebox better.”
Stunned, Rhonda said quietly, “I could do this on my own if I had to.”
“It’s bad enough to send you back in here at all,” Wade shook his head, “Nobody’s saying you aren’t tough, but everyone’s got their limits.”
“How long do you have?” her voice cut out in her hoarse whisper, like a phone call with a bad connection.
Wade shrugged, “At least a few days, we’ll be fine.”
Her eyes widened in dread. Before she could answer, the guard yelled a few feet away from them, “INMATES! Cells! Now.”
Wade squared his shoulders and turned on the charm with a fake English accent, “Ah, concierge! Show us to our rooms please, we’ve only just arrived.”
The officer gripped his cattle prod, a warning. Then he waved his hand to usher them along. They shuffled up some stairs, steps echoing through the concrete cavern. He led them to their cell block and stopped at one cell that was occupied by what looked like a werewolf with terrible mange. “You’re in here,” he shoved Wade in.
The realization that they were separating made Rhonda’s heart leap into her throat, veins turning cold.
If Wade was worried, he didn’t let it show. He waved, “Bye, bestie! See you in the morning!”
Somehow, she forced herself to nod and allowed the guard to herd her further down the row to her cell. Someone was in there, but it was too dark to see who; the lights were busted in that cell. There was something cruel in the way the guard chuckled, “Good luck, mutie,” as he pushed Rhonda in, right before the doors mechanically slid closed.
“I heard the rumors that Guestbook was back,” a feminine voice like crushed velvet purred, “but I didn’t believe it until I saw for myself.”
Rhonda sighed, irritated. “Hello, Mimi.”
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Text
Circuits (Part Two)
Summary: Diego finally goes out with his childhood crush. But at two different points in their lives, is it sustainable?
WARNINGS: Language
Word Count: 2,531
Paring: Diego x Female Reader 
Part One
A/N: So I kinda have another idea of where this can go.... Would y’all want another part? Should I make it a series? Should I stop avoiding the one post y’all followed me for in the first goddamn place? lmk
 As always, feel free to hit me up with requests. Sometimes I’m a little slow but I love writing For The People. I’m also willing to write for HP, Mauraders (omg Wolfstar is my JAM), GoT.... If I post about it, I’m pretty much down. Holla at your girl.
.✫*゚・゚。.☆.*。・゚✫*.
Diego stared at himself in the mirror. This was happening. He was finally going to get to know the beautiful, brilliant girl he had liked since he was a kid. It wasn’t a date, there was no reason to be so nervous. Oh, fuck, he was nervous. 
After digging through the clothes he had at the Academy, he found a black button down shirt. He was going to lunch with The [Y/N] [L/N], the brilliant and kinda rich and gorgeous [Y/N]; he didn’t want to embarrass her if they were seen together. Diego rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, leaving it untucked with a pair of jeans. He took another quick look at himself in the mirror before leaving his room to find [Y/N] downstairs. 
Diego smiled when he heard her talking to his mom, knocking lightly on the door before letting himself in. 
“Oh, Diego!” Grace said cheerfully as she continued to do the little diagnostic tests. “[Y/N] told me you’re going out to lunch! I hope you have fun!” 
Diego smiled a bit, nodding at his mom. “She looks good,” he complimented [Y/N].
It was like she was pulled out of her trance when he complimented her work. She looked up with wide eyes, smiling when she fully processed what he said. “Thanks! It looks like you’re all set, Miss Grace!” 
Grace let out a pleased sound, cupping [Y/N]’s cheek fondly. “You’re always so sweet. I wish you were one of my children.” 
[Y/N]’s smile was so kind and loving, Diego wanted nothing more for it to be directed at him. “I wish I was your daughter too.” 
Grace removed her hand as she turned to leave, kissing Diego’s cheek as she went by. “Have fun, darling.” 
Diego sighed softly as he tried to gather his thoughts, not wanting to think too much about how gorgeous [Y/N] looked when she smiled like that. He turned back, smiling a bit at her. “Ready?” 
“Give me a second to clean up!” She nodded, starting to reload the things she brought into her bag. “How have you been?” she asked as she started to shut down her computer. 
“Uh... I’ve been... Good. Yeah, good. Just a lot of family drama,” Diego answered awkwardly, leaning against a workbench. 
[Y/N] snorted at that. “Five told me about the end of the world. Thanks for saving us all.” 
Diego recoiled at that bit of information, shaking his head as he tried to comprehend. “You talked to Five?” 
“He broke into my office. Does spatial jumping into someone’s office count as breaking in, technically?” 
Diego and [Y/N] shared a laugh, shaking his head as he imagined his brother appearing in this woman’s office on a calm day. 
“But it’s not like he and I had a nice chat,” she continued, zipping her bag up. “He was very, ‘How much do you know about time travel?’ and ‘Can you reverse engineer this time travelling briefcase for me?’ So...” She chuckled, motioning for Diego to lead the way. “Where do you wanna go for lunch?” 
Diego considered that for a moment. He was a broke vigilante who mopped floors and got a cut of bets on him during his fights. She was a world renowned scientist with a penthouse in Manhattan. Their ideas of nice places to go for lunch were probably very different. “You pick,” he decided. 
She hummed as she considered that, thinking of all the places in the city she knew. “Do you have any allergies or diet restrictions?” 
Diego raised an eyebrow. “No...” 
“Perfect! Then I know the perfect place. I’m never on this side of town so I never get to go. Let me toss my bag in my car and we can actually walk.” Diego nodded, following [Y/N] out of the Academy to her car. 
“A Tesla?” Diego asked with raised eyebrows. 
She rolled her eyes, using the key to pop the trunk. “A bribe from El. It didn’t work but how do you ask for a car back when you made such a spectacle out of giving it?” That mischievous smirk returned and Diego felt a jolt of electricity course through him. 
“You call one of the most famous billionaires of our lives ‘El’?” 
[Y/N] just laughed as she shut the trunk. “He really hates it when I call him Ellie.” 
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh, Diego was quickly falling in deep. Not only was she cute and kind and smart, she was funny and sassy. He silently wished he had broke into her office when he wanted to. Maybe he would already be kissing her in the back of her Tesla... 
Diego snapped out of his day dream when he heard a car horn honk as they walked down the street together. She probably wasn’t even interested, there was no point in imagining what they could do in the back of her fancy car that cost more than his entire life. He quickly traded places with [Y/N] so he was on the side of the road, an old habit he was taught young. 
“So what did you end up doing for work?” she asked, glancing over at Diego. There was an appreciative look in her eyes when they switched places and he was glad she wasn’t offended. 
“Uh, I currently work at a boxing gym. S-sometimes I train kids, sometimes I box, usually just clean,” he answered nervously, thankful there was only a slight slip up. 
“I’d love to see you fight sometime.” 
Diego felt a blush rise up his neck, nodding a bit. “Y-yeah, that would be cool.” 
“You can’t tell me that’s all you do,” she prodded, bumping her shoulder into Diego’s. “You don’t wear that leather harness and throw knives just to clean a gym.” 
Diego scratched the back of his neck. “I may offer my... Expertise and talents to the police when it is needed.” There was that beautiful, heartwarming laugh again. “What?” 
“I just like how you phrased, ‘I’m basically the non-blind version of Dare Devil’. It’s cute,” she answered, scrunching her nose in her amusement. 
Cute. 
Cute. [Y/N] thought he was cute. He forced himself to not get too excited, taking a deep breath hidden behind the sound of a large truck passing by. 
“Here we are.” 
Diego looked up at the restaurant, raising his eyebrow. It was a little greasy spoon diner that he often found Klaus in when he was high out of his mind. 
“You coming Hargreeves?”
Diego’s attention was brought back down to [Y/N], nodding a bit as he followed her inside. 
“This place has the best fries,” she gushed as she slid into the booth. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 
Diego just shook his head as he looked at the woman across from him. She was as complex as the circuits in Grace and all he wanted to do was learn every bit that he could. “I just thought you’d pick somewhere even further uptown,” he admitted, grabbing the laminated menu from behind the napkin holder. 
“I go to the little bistros and pretentious restaurants enough for business. I like these little places.” [Y/N] shrugged, grabbing a menu herself even though she knew what she was going to order. “Unless you were expecting-” 
“No! N-no, this is great,” Diego assured with a smile, nodding a bit before looking down at the menu. 
The waitress came a few moments later to take their orders and left glasses of water behind, leaving the two to their own devices for a bit. 
“Can I be honest?” she asked softly, swirling the slice of lemon in her water with the straw. “I’ve had a huge crush on you since... Probably that day you were being creepy in the hall.” [Y/N] chuckled as a blush rose to her cheeks, using her other hand to cover her face. “It’s so embarrassing. I had a picture of you from one of those teeny-bopper magazines on my wall when I was like... thirteen. Next to Jonathan Taylor Thomas and the Backstreet Boys.” 
Diego stared in disbelief before laughing at the absurdity of it all. “I had a crush on you too,” he admitted. Shaking his head, he looked around the diner, imagining what would’ve happened if Reginald hadn’t caught him in the room when they were fifteen. “You were the first girl I had seen that wasn’t my sister and I thought you were ridiculously pretty.” Diego’s smile brightened when the pink in her cheeks darkened a bit. “I still think that.” 
“Diego Hargreeves, you’re going to get me in trouble, aren’t you?” 
“Depends on the kind of trouble you’re looking for.” 
------------------------------
Diego couldn’t stop smiling after that sort-of date with [Y/N]. They exchanged phone numbers after he walked her back to her car with promises to catch up to each other again. She left him with the lingering feeling of her lips on his cheek and he wasn’t sure if anything made him feel like that. 
It had been two weeks since Diego saw her. Trying to date an accomplished scientist who constantly had meetings with other accomplished and brilliant people was almost impossible. But the flirty texts reassured him that she was actually interested, just busy as hell. 
“Not to add to that giant ego of yours, but you got this in the bag,” Al assured as Diego bounced from foot to foot. “Shaw always favors his left side. Use that to your advantage.” 
Diego just nodded, trying to focus on the sound of the crowd as the announcer began. He smirked when the locals loudly displayed their dissatisfaction with the interloper. Al clapped him on the shoulder and he began his walkout, keeping his head high to add to his cocky persona. Diego scanned the crowd as he climbed into the ring, his eyes locking with a familiar pair of curious eyes. He was definitely surprised to see [Y/N], remembering that she had some sort of benefit dinner or something and couldn’t come out to see him fight. Diego gave her a wink as the ref started his spiel about a fair, clean fight. 
The fight went on longer than Diego expected, Shaw even managing to get a few decent hits in. Diego sighed as he collapsed onto the stool, rolling his eyes as Al chastised him for not keeping his guard up. 
“If I have to get that girl out of here-”
Diego took one last drink of water, glaring at Al as his mouth guard was pushed back in. He nodded toward the ref as he stood back up, tapping gloves with Shaw again. Diego spared a glance at [Y/N], silently deciding he wanted this fight over with so he could get dinner with her. 
It was over within a minute, Shaw knocked out cold on the mat. Diego huffed as his arm was raised as the winner, smiling a bit when he could make out [Y/N]’s cheering. He climbed out of the ring, mumbling his thanks as Al helped him out of his gloves. Diego’s head whipped around when he felt a hand on his back, a smile forming on his face when he saw who it was. 
“You were great!” [Y/N] was grinning so wide Diego’s heart sped up again. “I started to get nervous before that last round but I should’ve known better.” 
Diego slowly realized one of her hands was still on his hip, the other was gently wiping blood off his brow. Maybe it was the adrenaline or some repressed fantasy from when he was fifteen, but suddenly Diego leaned down to crash his lips against [Y/N]’s. Once his mind caught up to the rest of his body, he quickly realized what he did. He started to pull away but that was when she started to kiss back, the hand that was on his face moving to grasp the back of his neck. Diego wrapped his arms around [Y/N]’s waist to pull her close, the moment falling apart by her hands pushing on his chest. 
“You’re sweaty!” she complained, laughing as she continued to wiggle out of his grasp. Diego chuckled once he processed that she was only pushing away because he was sweaty and not because she wasn’t happy. “Go take a shower!” 
“You could join me,” he suggested with a smirk, a bit of pride swelling his chest when it looked like the woman seemed to consider it for a second. 
“Go! Get! I’ll patch you up when you’re done.” 
Diego did as he was told, taking a few steps backward to get one last look before turning all the way around to get to the locker room. 
He made his way back to the boiler room once he was done with his shower, raising an eyebrow when he saw [Y/N] playing with one of his knives. “Don’t sue me if you cut yourself,” he warned, running the towel over his hair again as he descended the stairs. 
“You really think that little of me?” she questioned from where she was perched on the little table in the middle of the room. 
Diego walked over with a smirk, gently pushing her knees apart so he could stand between them. “Of course not,” he promised, leaning foward to rest his hands on either side of her thighs. Diego’s heart thudded hard in his chest when she set the knife down to wrap her arms around his neck. 
“I like your place,” she whispered, her eyes starting into his own like she was breaking him down to his core like she did with gadgets. 
“I bet it’s no where near nice as yours,” Diego replied, his heart dropping into his stomach for a completely different reason now. 
“I don’t know. You’re here, that’s a big plus.” 
Diego shook his head, standing up straight again. “I’m not...” He felt his mouth go dry, it was only a matter of time before his tongue got heavy. “I c-c-can’t k-” Diego groaned. “I c-can’t k-k-ke-keep up.” 
“Diego.” [Y/N]’s voice was soft and reassuring, but Diego didn’t want her pity. “Look at me,” she said forcefully, causing the vigilante to do so. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was a little girl. And now, you’re... A giant dork but I really like you.” Her smile was hard to ignore, his feelings of doubt starting to subside. “And you look like this.” Her eyes trailed over his still naked torso, shaking her head in disbelief. “None of the men in my field look like this that’s for sure.” [Y/N] reached out to take Diego’s hand to pull him back to the position they were previously in, wrapping her arms around his neck once more. “We might not work out, but it sure as hell isn’t going to be because you live in the gym you work at. I want to give this a try, if that’s okay?” 
Diego wasn’t sure if the words would come so he just pressed his lips against hers as a silent acceptance. He felt the tension release from his shoulders when she kissed back. 
Maybe they wouldn’t work out, but they definitely wouldn’t if he didn’t let himself try. 
.✫*゚・゚。.☆.*。・゚✫*.
@reblogserpent @knifeboydiego
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sanpatron · 5 years
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I don’t particularly know why it’s taken this long for me to realize the full extent of the Boss’s betrayal at the hands of Julius. I knew it was fucked, I knew it had affected him greatly, but I never truly sat down and really dove into just how horrendous it actually was.
There have been plenty of posts I’ve read from people I know who’ve examined this, who’ve really taken their time to dive headfirst into what it all means and really word it in a way where you can truly understand the extent of it all. It’s in reading these posts that I’ve decided to more or less compose it all in my own post in regards to my Boss. A way to really showcase the shit he went through and how it drastically changed him as a person.
Django joined the gang around October of 2004 at the age of 20 (his birthday is in December). He had been wandering around the country aimlessly without any real idea of what he wanted to do with himself. Felt no sense of purpose, no sense of belonging. Other than his family back home he was truly and utterly alone in the world. Yet that all changed once he stepped foot into Stilwater.
He found himself caught up in a fight between Los Carnales, the Vice Kings and the Westside Rollers. Thankfully before he wound up getting himself killed solely on the merit of being here at the “wrong place, wrong time” Django was saved by both Julius and Troy. Extending a hand towards Django Julius decides to try and recruit him into the Saints, and in realizing that he basically owed this man big time, Django decides to take the invitation and meet him and the others at the church.
I want to stop here for a moment and say that the Saints were originally formed as a response to the increasing violence between the three warring gangs across Stilwater. Julius definitely had his good intentions, but to echo the same statements made in another post, I really doubt there was ever a point in time where Julius didn’t want to hold some sense of power. To be the guy who was in charge of the city. Oh sure, he decided to leave the Vice Kings (which he was originally a part of alongside his best friend Benjamin King) due to the direction in which they were going. But given certain details that I will get to in a second, I really do believe that Julius wanted just as much to be at the top as he did to protect the city.
I say this because he uses the increasing violence within the district of Saint’s Row as an example of the city going to hell because of these warring gangs. He wasn’t even originally from the district, he was from Sunnyvale where he and King grew up together, eventually forming their own gang. He latched on to this idea to protect the Row as a means to start a rallying cry and get all these incredibly angry and very violent kids to fall under his leadership and form a counter group. Not a single one of the Saints knows this and it isn’t till you’re riding around with Ben in one mission where the truth comes out.
Hell, the speech that Julius gives during the custscene after the tutorial missions turns out to be a word for word copy of Ben’s very own from when he first formed the Vice Kings. It’s this same speech that the Boss would later use when he takes over the gang after his coma stint. Julius basically puts out this preconceived image of himself in order to get all these people who are significantly younger than him to join his cause. It’s this exact thing that let someone like Django essentially fall under his spell and believe a single thing that ever came out of that man’s mouth.
Julius is manipulative, but I wouldn’t say he’s the sort to pull some Machiavellian-type shit. Cause as I will get to later, there was no point whatsoever before his arrest where he was considering on betraying everyone and leaving them all high and dry. No, Julius’s manipulative actions are the direct result of an incredibly simply and human emotion; selfishness. Yet this will also come into play much later over why his betrayal even happened in the first place.
So once Django is canonized and helps take back the Row, he’s basically let to do whatever necessary to take down the other three gangs and bring some sense of peace back to Stilwater. 95% of the time it’s with him acting as a weapon, which is something he is scarily good at. This is something that not only Julius but other lieutenants definitely pick up on, and it’s why when you need something taken care of where no one is left alive and as much destruction as possible is caused, you either send Django, Johnny or both.
And as time goes on and more of the city turns purple, Django begins to feel more and more like he’s found his purpose. He managed to find a place where not only is he validated for the work he does but the people within the gang accept him and make him feel good about it. Django has gotten a taste of power, of violence, of money, of fame. A taste of generally living a better life to the fullest where he feels like he’s at the top. Not only that but, for the first time ever, he has friends as well. He has people he’s beginning to care for and feel a connection with after spending an entire childhood basically lonely as shit. Frustrated over his inability to truly connect with anyone.
At no point in time do I think that Django ever wanted to usurp Julius. He respected the man. Looked up to him. He was the embodiment of what the gang stood for and a sign of pure loyalty. So to then be promoted to his second-in-command once all the gangs were dealt with must have come as a pleasant surprise. One that definitely awoke something even more within him. He was ready to take on that title and he was absolutely prepared to save the man from police custody after everything he had done for him.
And I want to make something incredibly clear here; up until this point I don’t think Julius had in mind that he was going to betray the Saints either. Everything was basically coming up fantastically and he was getting the power and recognition that he wanted. Hell, he doesn’t give a shit about what Django had to do to get results. He practically justifies and validates every single little action the Saints have taken.
“ We did it, playa. 3rd Street owns this town. Now, that's not to say that shit didn't cost, and I ain't talkin' about what happened to Johnny's leg or losing Lin. Those two were soldiers, they knew the risk. Hell, Johnny gets off on it. But we crushed a lot of families playa, and someday they're gonna holla at us. But believe me when I tell you, we did the right thing.
With the Rollerz wiped out, Benjamin gone, and the Colombians in our pocket, there ain't gonna be a need for a gang war ever again. And in the end, that's gonna save a lot more lives than we took. So relax, playa, you've earned yourself a break. You've impressed the hell out of me son, and I've told the crew you're gonna be my right hand- ”
Julius was downright ecstatic with the results he and the gang had been getting. He was more than happy. And as you can see right there he was happy enough with what Django had done that he decided to give the guy that high of a promotion. Everything seemed to be going fantastic up until he gets arrested during this little phone call.
Once the two of the final three missions play out in which the Saints do what they can to save Julius everything seems to go right back to normal. That is until Django is called out to Alderman Richard Hughes’s yacht on that fateful December night. Once arriving, Django is greeted by the alderman and is essentially given a speech about gentrification and his political power before telling his men to turn their weapons onto him.
However, before even getting a chance to fire a loud beeping is heard and without even a moment to react the yacht blows to hell and everyone, but Django, dies. Instead our poor little gangster is put into a five year coma, staying on life support on the request of Troy for, as it turns out, he was an undercover cop this whole time.
Years later Django will once again wake up, and after a series of events that lead him towards saving Johnny and then the two of them deciding to resurrect the Saints, Django decides to pay Troy a visit and find out what’s been going on. It’s here that in the game (SR2) you get to find a couple of taped recordings at the police station. The first involves Dex (former lieutenant of the Saints) confronting Troy of being an undercover cop and stating that he’s dropping his colors and taking a job at the Ultor corporation.
The second is Troy speaking to Julius after his arrest and asking him to speak to Johnny and Django and convincing them to step down, thus disbanding the gang and keeping Troy from arresting the people he’s come to call his friends over this time.
The third tape is where Django learns the truth; Julius was the one who had planted a bomb all those years ago.
A punch to the gut can’t really describe the sort of feeling Django must have felt from learning this. It had to have been one of the most horrific, most anger-inducing things he could have ever heard. To have this man, the one who had taken you in, gave you a sense of validation and appreciation, told you that the work you performed was fantastic, let you have this sense of belonging and purpose within a group, who you practically looked up to be the one who tried to assassinate you is absolutely sickening to him and fills him with such rage.
Five years of his life. Five whole fuckin’ years. I know a lot of people make the argument that your 20′s really ain’t that special, but that’s not the point here. The point is that whether or not they would’ve been extraordinary, Django lost five whole years of his young adulthood. An incredibly pivotal point in him growing up was completely lost on him due to almost dying at the age of 21. He will never get those years back. He will never truly know what he missed out on. It’s practically one of the reasons why he acts so brash and angry and hotheaded during the entirety of the second game.
Everything had been taken away from him. His city, his friends, his sense of identity; all of it was snatched right out of his hands and thrown to the gutter cause of one man. The one man he looked up to the most after everything he had done for him. If Django felt sick at first when trying to process the amount of time that had passed and how much he had to catch up on, then he more than likely felt horrifically ill at this revelation.
When their final confrontation plays you can see Julius direct the blame entirely on how the Saints were handled and how Django acted. It’s ridiculous given the fact that Julius did not start thinking about how terrible the Saints or Django were until his gang activities got him in trouble. This is where the selfishness plays out. As soon as he was arrested and realized their were consequences to his actions, the man figured he’d better fucking dip and completely disregard what that meant for everyone else.
He abandons the Saints, abandons the people who allegedly wished to help out, and soon starts claiming his has morals—that he could not stand up to Django whatsoever and that he was the monster destroying Stilwater all along. I really doubt he could have gotten Django to back down after basically awakening something in him, but he didn’t even bother trying whatsoever.
And as the two have their final confrontation Julius really lets it be known how he’s come to despise Django, how he seems him as the problem, putting all blame squarely on him despite knowing full well that he has the biggest hand in this after all. It’s with all of this plus the anger that Django already felt towards everything, plus his brash and arrogant attitude that it truly twists him into the monster he’s become today.
Their final confrontation can be found here.
As a friend of mine who has way too many blogs here to tag said
“ I like the subtle implication that a huge part of him, if not all of him, died on the boat ”
And it’s true, this is exactly what he thinks. This is exactly what was going through his mind as he spoke to Julius. Django is gone. Django is completely dead after that explosion. And in having that part of him be completely eradicated he can now turn towards his new identity, one that he will showcase to the entire world. If Julius is going to call him a monster then fine. So be it. He will accept this new identity of his and run with it. Revel both the fame and infamy he will garner. 
From anger and betrayal The Boss has now been born.
Julius may have had his good intentions, he may have genuinely wanted to keep the city safe and do something right. But his desire for power outweighs that, and the fact that he will never truly admit his mistake is such a damning thing. Shit, he probably thought that the Boss murdering him only served to further prove his point.
Yet after all is said and done, after the Boss has finally killed the man who turned him into what he is, there really is no true sense of satisfaction. The Boss is a man who finds a feeling of catharsis when taking revenge on people. To him it “fixes thing”. It makes things right. Yet with his killing of Julius he’s fully aware of the fact that it won’t truly change much for him.
He’s far gone now. Completely transformed into an entirely different beast. Julius’s betrayal is going to leave a scar on him that’ll last a lifetime. One that he can never truly let heal whatsoever. He’s not one to brood, especially with this when it’s already hit him like a ton of bricks. However, he will forever remain conscious of the fact that what happened is leaving an impact.
That what Julius did to him will always affect him in some way. His trust issues, his difficult connecting with others, all of it has been now heightened by these events. This is a scar that will remain with him for a lifetime, and that truly infuriates him to no end.
There’s nothing worse than knowing you owe the personal growth and identity you have, good or bad, to someone who hurt you.
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solei28 · 5 years
Text
Coffee, Pie, You- Chapter 6
You had been in the hospital for a week now and you were getting restless. You were never one to just lay in bed all day. Granted, you were still recovering from the beating you took, but you still had the urge to get out and cook something at least. The only thing keeping you somewhat sane was the rotation of Avengers coming to see you. They refused to leave you alone afraid you’d be attacked again.
James spent the most time with you of course. He would only leave when someone showed up from the team to stay with you while he went home to shower. He would try to get back to you as soon as he could, but sometimes he was needed at the Tower if any possible leads came up on Sandra’s whereabouts.
Today was one of those days so you got to spend more time with Clint. You enjoyed chatting with him. He always had funny stories about his time in the circus, missions that didn’t go according to plan and other shenanigans of the team. You found yourself laughing through the pain when he was there.
You looked at after finally catching your breath after telling you about a prank he pulled on Sam that involved a whole lot of bird seeds and faulty wings. It had just dawned on you that Clint was the one who saved you. He was the figure you saw running towards you before losing consciousness.
“Y/N, is everything alright?” Clint asked worriedly. He couldn’t quite place the expression your face.
You smiled brightly at him. “You saved me. I saw you before everything went dark. Thank you.”
Clint put his head down and smiled. He looked back up at you and said, “Don’t mention it. I’m just happy I got there when I did.”
“Me too. There’s still a lot I wanna do in life,” you stated.
“Like kiss Buchanan?” Clint teased.
You felt the heat on your cheeks and could stop the smile that spread across your face. “Among other things, Hawkeye.”
He laughed and raised his hands in victory. “I knew it!”
You giggled at how childish the Avengers actually were. This week had definitely confirmed it for you. You sat back and exhaled through your nose. “I can’t wait to get back to my kiosk. I’m losing my mind here.”
Clint chuckled. “I can’t wait either. I’m dying to try your coffee. Everyone says it’s the best they’ve had. Ever.”
“The food��s not too bad either,” you said winking. “Um, do you know how my kiosk doing? I didn’t exactly close up shop.”
“Well, it’s a crime scene now. So, it relatively safe, but I’m sure all the food went bad by now,” he explained.
You sighed. “What a waste. I was really looking forward to showing off my secret menu that night. I even bought a few extra ingredients to really impress.”
“You really love to cook, huh?” Clint asked.
You nodded and smiled. “It’s my biggest passion in life and people seem to really enjoy it. I’m more myself  when I’m in the kitchen.”
“And, we can’t wait to get you back in there. We miss your food,” your doctor said pushing the curtain open and walking over to the right side of your bed.
“I’m sure you do, Dr. Cross,” you said. “So, how’s it looking? Can I get out of here soon?”
Dr. Cross smiled. “That’s why I’m here, Y/N. You’re recovering well and I feel confident to discharge you today.”
Your eyes lit up. “Really?”
Dr. Cross chuckled. “Yes, really. I’ll have the discharge papers to you within the hour.”
You bounced a bit in the bed then winced.
Dr. Cross gave you a stern look. “Don’t get overexcited and hurt yourself, or I’ll keep you here for another week.”
Your face dropped. “No! Please, I’m fine.”
Dr. Cross threw her head back and laughed. “I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N.”
You looked at Clint giddily. “I finally get to leave,” you squealed.
He was amused at how excited you were. “I’ll call Barnes and let him know. I’m sure he’s gonna wanna take you home himself.”
You hummed. “Yeah, probably.” You looked up and saw a woman coming over to you. The red hair gave her away immediately. Black Widow. You were dying to meet her and it would seem you finally had the chance.
“Hey, Nat,” Clint said standing up. “Come meet Y/N, the cook of Clarkson Avenue.”
Natasha smiled at you warmly. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
You didn’t think you could get starstruck after the amount of time you spent with the Avengers, but you were. Natasha Romanov was gorgeous and fierce. She was someone you had looked up to and now she was standing in front of you.
“The pleasure is all mine. I can’t believe you’re standing here right now,” you stammered. “I’ve looked up to you for years.”
Natasha was pleasantly surprised. “Well, I hope I continue earning that.”
“I’m sure you will,” you said.
“I gotta call Barnes. She’s getting discharged today,” Clint said.
“He’s with Steve at the Tower. They got some intel that may lead to where Sandra is,” Natasha told him. She sat down where Clint had been when she got there. “Hey, Y/N. Are you hungry?”
“Now that you mention it yeah I am. I’m craving pizza,” you said.
“Pizza sounds good. I’ll run out and get it. I’ll see you ladies in a bit,” Clint said and headed towards the exit.
“So, I hear you make the best coffee,” Natasha said when Clint was out of sight.
“That is the rumor going around,” you mused. “And, apparently the food is killer too.”
Natasha laughed. “So, I’ve been told. I can’t wait to try some.” Her phone went off. She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me, Y/N.” She stood up and walked off to the side.
You put your head back and closed your eyes. You couldn’t wait to go home and take a shower. You also had to get back to your clients about why you’ve haven’t gotten back to them. There were some commissions you had accepted that should’ve been done by now.
You were also hoping to get some better sleep once you were home. The hospital bed was uncomfortable and you were constantly being woken up by back and forth of the staff. The little sleep you did get were attached to the nightmares about that night. You figured being in your own bed might help.
Natasha came back with a serious look on her face. When she looked at you, her eyes softened. “Y/N, I have some bad news. Someone set fire to your kiosk and your apartment. I’m sorry.”
You stared at her, gaping. Then, you felt the tears roll down your cheeks. “Why? Why is this happening?” you bawled. You put your face in your hand.
Natasha put her hand on your shoulder. “We’re going to find whoever is responsible and put an end to this.” Her words were confident.
You tried to talk, but you were crying too hard. You had nowhere else to stay. All of your relatives were in different states and you didn’t have friends you felt close enough to ask.
“Doll?”
You looked up to see James standing in front of you. His face dropped at how distraught you looked. He breathed heavily.
“Doll, I’m so sorry. This whole thing is fucked up.” He gently cupped your face in his hand wiping away your tears.
You took a few ragged breaths before you could speak. “I have nowhere to go,” you cried. “Where am I supposed to go now?”
“Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re going to stay at the Tower with me and the rest of the team. It will be safer there,” James assured you.
“At the Tower?” Your eyes grew wide when it hit you. “The Avengers Tower?”
James smiled. “Yes, doll. I’ll be able to look after you.”
“At the Avengers Tower?” it was a difficult thing for you to process. You were exhausted from everything that has happened, but even if you weren’t, staying at the Avengers Tower is still hard to wrap your head around.
James tilted his head. “Are you alright? Aside from the obvious.”
“I don’t know. Trying to process losing all my shit while simultaneously moving into the Avengers Tower. I think I need stronger drugs,” you decided.
James nodded his head. “Yeah, I can see how it’s a lot to process.”
Dr. Cross approached with papers in her hand. Her eyebrows furrowed when she saw you had been crying. “Y/N, is everything alright?”
“Yeah, just learned my kiosk and apartment was set on fire, but I’m moving in with the Avengers,” you said nonchalantly.
She shook her head confused. “What?”
“Don’t worry that’s how I felt,” you scrunch your face up, “No, still feel. You looked at the papers in her hand. “Are those my discharge papers?”
“They are.” She handed them to you. She looked at James. “I trust you will take care of her from here, Sergeant?”
“Yes, of course,” he quickly said.
“Don’t worry, Doc. She’s in good hands,” Natasha chimed in.
“Good.” Dr. Cross smiled at you. She took a pen out of her pocket and passed it to you. “Sign here and here.” When you did, she took the pen and signed papers back. “Ok, Y/N. You’re good to go. Please, do not hesitate to come back if you feel anything is wrong. I’m always here.”
You could hear the sincerity in her voice. “Thank you, Dr. Cross. Hopefully, I’ll have a new kiosk soon. First meal on me.”
She gave you a toothy smile. “I can’t wait. You take care of yourself, Y/N.”
“Thank you, Dr. Cross, for everything you did for her,” James said shaking her hand.
“Hey, it’s what I do. And, even more so for her. She keeps me fueled and caffeinated.” She gave you a wink and went about her business.
“Ok, doll. You ready to go to the tower?” James asked you seriously.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You looked around for a moment. “Um, I don’t have anything to change into, though.”
“Don’t worry, Y/N. I gotcha,” Clint said with a bag in one hand and a pizza box in the other. “I picked up a pair of sweats and a hoodie you can throw on to get out of here.” He handed you the bag.
“Oh, thanks, Clint,” you said cheerfully. “I appreciate it.”
James helped you get out of the bed. You wrapped your arm in his so he could escort to the bathroom to change.
“Will you be able to change on your own?” he asked.
“Are you trying to see me naked?” you teased.
He blushed and put his head down. “No. I was going to say Nat could help you,” he sputtered.
“Buchanan, relax. I’ll be fine. I’ll holla if I need help.” You made your way into the bathroom.
With great difficulty, you managed to dress. The sweats and hoodie were black, simple and a size too big. You loved them. However, you didn’t have any sneakers.
“Thanks again, Clint,” you said walking out of the bathroom. “I just wish I had some sneakers to throw on.”
Clint snapped his finger. “Damn, I knew I was forgetting something. Sorry, Y/N.”
“It’s fine. I’ll manage,” you told him.
“Hold on a second. I’ll be right back,” James said. He disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with a wheelchair. “I can get you to the car in this.”
You smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you, Buchanan.”
He helped you into the chair and pushed you to the exit. When you got to the SUV, (because it was not a car. He’s a liar.), he picked you up and gently placed you in the back seat.
“I’m gonna put the seat belt on you to keep you in place. Is that alright?” he asked.
“Sure,” you said. As he leaned over you, locking the belt in place, you quickly kissed his cheek.
He froze for a moment. Your lips were so soft and warm on his cheek. He slowly backed up and looked at you, eyes searching your face.
“Thank you, for everything you’ve done for me, Buchanan. You have such a beautiful soul.”
James was baffled by that. He stared at you, mouth slightly open. Finally, after what seemed like years, he said, “It’s the least I can for someone with a heart of gold like you.”
You wanted to grab him and kiss him full on the lips, but you restrained yourself. He did lean in and kiss on the forehead, however. That sent a chill down your spine and your heart may have skipped a beat.
“Let’s get you home, doll,” he said and closed the door. He hurriedly made his way to the driver’s seat while Clint sat in the back with you and Natasha sat up front.
You were really on your way to stay at the Avengers Tower. How quickly your life had changed. You knew this was going to be interesting.  
Arriving at the Tower: James coming around and unbuckling Y/N: Here we are, doll. Y/N in awe: I'm at the Avengers Tower. James smiling and picking Y/N up: Yup. Y/N: What the hell am I doing here? James: So, I can take care of you and keep you safe. Y/N: At the Avengers Tower XD
Nat: She's really starstruck, huh? Clint: Hey, I would be, too. Plus, she's had a rough week. Let her enjoy this. Nat: She deserves it. And, Barnes is head over heels for her, so he's going to enjoy this. Clint: That he will. Hey, you think she'll cook for us when she gets better? Nat: It will probably be the first thing she does once she can. Clint bouncing on his heels: I can't wait!
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dcwastelands · 5 years
Text
R Tizfake Testing Event - June 8, 2019
Eevelion: As the Research department at HQ opened it's doors for the testing, all volunteers would be ushered through the halls by a number of goggled researchers and through a set of security doors. On the other side of the doors our attendees would find themselves in a large room, mostly empty aside from a large blast door on the opposite end with a catwalk above, as well as a one-sided window, presumably for the researchers to watch the test. As the last of the group was corralled into the room the door would close behind them, leaving them with dead silence before the event truly started.
Dezzy: Outside of the car rides she was employed to chauffeur demons, Lessy had to say she rarely interacted with demons. Even more rare did she or Cab see them outside of the human disguises, so she was trying her best not to stare. Emphasis on "trying". Occassionally she would try to sneak glances of their horns or compare their colorful skin tones to hers. Still, she kept hands mostly to herself, putting herself on idle, rolling on the balls of her legs.
"Man, I don't think I've ever been in this department yet, let alone the others." Lessy still considered herself new to this world, however, being here did give her a positive sense of purpose.
Gigi: Necktie was PR why did he need to be dragged in for testing--his ear had been chewed off about something to the effect of 'yearly physicals', or was it 'counter-investigative journalism'? God, he couldn't remember now, it was like his brain turned to static whenever research was mentioned as of late. Still his posture was composed as ever, chest out, chin up, customer service face on.
There were, unfortunately, humans here, as he would be made painfully aware.
"New arrival, I see?" get out, get out of here.
Dezzy: "More or less. I'm used to working from my own mobile office and driving you guys around." Still swaying on her heels, she glanced up at the ceiling as it was rude to stare (though on could argue not making eye contact was equally rude)Cab would occasionally work on their aim in infranty, but Lessy didn't know that. Or she guessed, maybe she did since she was spontaneously better at darts since they joined HQ? Hmm.
Gigi: He tapped a gloved hand to his chin, staring upward. "I think ive heard of a chauffeur somewhere around in the files," He tucked that hand behind his back just as quickly, offering his other for a shake. "Welcome to Research, then! I'm not from this department, though, so...no tours."
Dezzy: It took a moment for Lessy to realize Necktie had offered his had, to which she quickly grabbed perhaps too much vigor. "Thanks!"
Taking back her own gloved hand she gave a cheesy grin and a salute." Yep that's me! Need a ride just holla at ya girl." She winked while making a 'call me' gesture with her hand. "Names Sleeveless Hoodie by the way. Though everyone just calls me Lessy."
Gigi:His return shake was firm in kind. "I'll keep that in mind," he smiled. he had his own valets, but ok. Bringing up his name might bring some unwanted gossip his way, actually, now that he thought of it--jeez, why was he forced to do this anyway?
"Pleasure to meet you, Mx.Sleeveless. People are probably going to be yelling 'Necktie' at me, so let's just get that out of the way so there's no confusion, yes?" He gesticulated his arms around, as if trying to stir some nebulous concept around. "My appearance here doesn't mean anything."
Dezzy: Lessy didn't really recall Necktie as the owner of Diamond Jail on first name alone, let alone appearance. Her curiosity did get the better of her as her eyes wandered down to his namesake. "Necktie huh? So like, your tie thingy turns into a weapon for real??"
She scratched at the side of her head, perplexed by idea of clothing becoming something other than what it was. " Like, we my dad was trying to get me into the family buisness he told me a few things about all this. I thought he was fucking with me! It just sounds so dumb... Underwear transforming into weapons."
Zaku: "Mhmm, yup. Yeah, I'm walking right in. It'll probably be for, I 'unno, two or so hours? Money's on the table if you want to order out, just...don't do anything crazy, alright? Ok...love you too."
Ending the call, the blue haired demon did a quick run back of his hair, a tick of sorts he kept for as long as he's known. Pack's interactions with the demon community was slightly sparce to say the least. He'd hope with how downlow he had been, Guillory would practically be a new name of sorts. But hey, he had been cooped up for a while, and Netti had doted on him not being a "cooped up bachelor", so here he was.
Gigi: "It's not quite underwear, though that's a common misconception--actually it felt more common back when I was younger," He let out a laugh. "But yes, it can do that--actually I think I should be,..."
He took a moment to get the eldredge knot untied with one hand, stretching the fabric taut and a split second later, it took on a bright blue glow, shifting into its two-pronged form.
"We're supposed to have our weapons ready, right?" He called up to the balcony, hoping one of the goggled cronies up top would like, give him a thumbs-up or something.
Eevelion: In response to Necktie's question came a crackle from an intercom as a familiar voice (to Necktie at least) came over the system “You can have your weapon out right now if you waaant, but you don't need to, you'll know when you'll want them.” then another crackle as it turned off.
Zaku: Ah. New company. Welp, time to mingle I guess.
"Evenin'."
Dezzy: Lessy's eyes went wide and sparkly at the sight before her! Magic is real!! Well, she knew that already to an extent but seeing it happen was amazing. "WHOOA HO HO! That's seriously the most fucking awesome shit I've seen in, like, ever! "
She then leaned in close and whIspered, "And I've seen some weird shit with LSD."
Popping back into her place and still juiced from Necktie summoning Eldgredge she noticed the other demon in the room,skipping any formalities. "What about you? What does your thing turn into? Can I see please!"
Zaku: Woah, hello there personal space. Welp, he ain't one to be a party pooper. He already spent most of his early years doing that.
"Uh, yeah, sure thing." Clipping off his name sake, tossed it in the air and let it transform, catching The Fix taking it's form, the blade crackling a bit.
Gigi: Necktie gave a shrug, leaning on his weapon; there wasn't much he could do with tile but at least it functioned the way any other staff was supposed to. His attention was turned to the other, noting the fanny pack and its usage as a transformation catalyst. Spear and a sword, both melee.....This was going to be ugly wasn't it.
"Well, I certainly hope whatever we're facing doesn't need a gun to take care of," He laughed, though his smile seemed somewhat strained.
Zaku: "Right there with you." Pack chimed in. Ah, nervous laughing. He too knew this art of deception.
Dezzy: Lessy stumbled back a few steps when Pack threw his weapon in the air. It was like seeing fireworks, kinda! She was in awe,"So cooooool...."
At the mention of fire arms Lessy snapped out of her starstruck trance, " oh! I have a gun" from the inside of her hoodie she pulled out her silencer, twirling it in her hand before catching it. She seemed to have surprised herself at the trick but said nothing about it. Cab must of learned it, the dork. "I got your backs."
Eevelion: Now that everyone had had a bit to get situated, the proctor would finally show themselves as Robe entered from a door on one side of the catwalk, a wooden easel and canvas in one arm, and her other hand interlocked with a sort of... paint bucket with arms and feet, though it's color scheme obviously denoted it as a ghost. The catwalk would clank as the pair made their way to the center, where Robe would set up the easel behind them and then turn to face the group before clearing her throat and addressing them loudly “Hellooooo everyone! Thank you all so much for coming, the test will beginning shortly, but before then I'd like to make doubly sure everyone is aware of the rules, and to answer a few questions you might have.”
Rummaging through her pockets she'd grab a copy of the flier that she had used to invite everyone here, reading it aloud “First, the rules. One, you can't attack me or my friend here.” She'd gesture to the paint bucket ghost at this “Two, try not to hit each other for no reason, if you hit someone cause they're blocking your shot, I don't care, just don't be dumb about it. Three, I say when the test begins and ends, when I say the test is over you put away your weapons, no questions asked. And four, aside from a few exceptions, nobody leaves while the test is in progress. Aside from those I also get to add new rules as I see fit.” She'd crumple the paper then shove it back in her pocket “And with that out of the way, let's take a few questions.”
Gigi: Oh, that explained a lot as to how he got dragged here, specifically. Necktie lifted a hand up with a fluid motion, as if he was some sort of aristocrat hailing a cab.
Eevelion: Robe would lean on the railing of the catwalk as she looked at Necktie "Hi Mr. Necktie! Good to see you getting out of the club, anyways, you got a question?"
Gigi: "yes, I kind of got forced out of my hidey-hole, but it's always a pleasure to help you out, Miss Robe!" This time the smile was actually genuine, though nobody really could tell, aside from his tone changing just a bit. "We look a little, oddly balanced, do you have any protocols in place in case we get ah, just absolutely punched to death like a common incel?
Eevelion: Robe giggled at Necktie's question as she dangled her arm over the side “Yeah your teams looking a little bare, and I thought your chances of winning were low even with like, double your current size, but don't worry though, if we notice you taking a beating we'll call for a break to get you out of the arena, only slightly worse for wear!”
Gigi: "Alright, thank you," He didnt seem any relieved at this, seems as though he just called himself a common incel indirectly. Unfortunate. Oh well, if it meant helping Chaleco's kid out, he was happy to. He took a deep breath, trying to not look too full of dread.
Dezzy: Club? Necktie? Lessy's singular braincell was working overtime to put two and two together. She scratched her chin lightly, looking off to the floor. Something about it rung a bell but the more Lessy tried to think about it, the more distant it became till her mind was gone from that moment. Her eyes glazed over, as if she froze for a second but immediately came back. Though it wasn't exactly her who came back.
Cab jumped a bit in their skin, having being brought to the front in a very unfamiliar location. They scanned the area and took note of the demons that were present in their normal flesh. Cab felt around their person, looking for something but didn't find what they were looking for. Lessy was always bad at keeping record of events in case Cab took over. Though more frustrating was what Cab was wearing like HONESTLY LESSY you're at WORK. Cab immediately zipped up their hoodie to salvage some modesty.
"Yes, ah, I had a question as well." Cab infered from what was going on. They were being tested or something. Their whole air had went from energetic ball to a more somber and professional tone. " My memory escapes me, what is the object today from this here's test?"
Zaku: "Yeah, what they said." Pack chimed in, returning The Fix back the it's standard form. Huh. Cute kid. Had the cheery eyes of Netti back when she was little.
Eevelion: Robe picked herself up from the railing to address her latest question "Very good question! I tried to keep it vague on the fliers since the theatrics are way more fun, but you'll be fighting..." She'd take a moment to hunch over and pick up her paint bucket companion, sitting him on top of the railing "A little collaboration project between me and this little guy. In fact, seeing as how you've each given a question, and yes, backing up someone else's question counts as asking." She'd produce a remote from her pocket "I think it's time we get started." And with that, she'd flick the remote, causing the huge steel doors in front of the party to begin to slide open.
Eevelion: As the doors opened and light filtered in, the attendees could get their first glimpse of their opponent, and it was large, orange, and kinda drippy. When the doors fully opened the creature slid out from it's containment chamber and stood in front of the group in it's full glory, a pudgy ectoplasmic dinosaur, it would blink it's eyes at them before giving the ground a mighty thump and roaring. Robe would beam before raising her arms high into the air “And here they are! Try not hold back, we wanna see just how much they're capable of, and half-hearted fighters give rotten data, and with that, the test is begun!”
Gigi: Oh, he did not like the sound of the doors parting, he did not like the size of the shadow he could see. Damn, this really was a mammoth of a thing, wasn't it? What had Robe fed it, exactly? He pulled himself into a position that lowered his center of gravity, two hands on the spear. He really wished he wore contacts today.
Zaku: "...Well damn." Pack looked up at the rather chubby...what was that, a tyrannosaurus? Nah, looked more like a fat Godzilla.
Yeah...yeah, fat Godzilla.
Dezzy: A collaboration? With that small kiddy looking ghost and equally small child? No, no, Cab shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Looks can be deceiving for all they knew. And what do you know, they were right. That thing was GIANT. Now they were wishing it was something more simplistic and smaller in scale. Scarfing down their fears and checking their silencer they gave a steady sigh, "I got your back covered."
Lessy had already said something similar before they switched, but Cab didn't know. Doesn't sound as cool the second time.
Eevelion: Seeing how the group was conceding the first move, the inky behemoth was glad to take it, rearing around to swipe at the three still clumped together with it's tail. Meanwhile Robe plucked RT off the railing, walking back to the easel and turning her namesake into Chroma, she'd look down to her companion and ask “Well, should we give our masterpiece some support?” with a thumbs up of approval from the bucket she'd dip the brush into his ectoplasmic pool and bring it to the canvas while she thought of what to draw.
Gigi: Necktie jumped up, letting two sets of bright blue wings carry him out of the way. Tryingto steer he only just barely seemed to get him out of the way, the tail swiping past his backbone, a pole-vaulter over a pole. He kept flying, trying not to hesitate and landing a heavy stab into its neck. He was getting tossed around a bit, though the behemoth's neck was pretty fat it still seemed irritating enough of a strike-- he was being shook around and losing his hold. He kind of stuck it in there too deep. He looped a hand into one of Eldredge's hilt holes, letting himself finally fly free with the spear after the ghost successfully dislodged him.
Dezzy: Swiftly, Cab jumped back far enough for the beast to miss them entirely. However, the misplaced their footing, disoriented a bit from the switch, and ridiculously missed shooting the ghost’s head and flew way past it’s shoulder. Cab kneeled down, rubbing their temple with their free hand as they tried to shake off the rust.  They whispered harshly to themselves“C’mon, c’mon nows our chance to show what were made of...”
Eevelion: No sooner than it finished it's sweep attack the Behemoth felt a prick on it's neck as Necktie's spear, it would give a violent shake to try to dislodge the demon and his weapon, and when it no longer felt the object stuck in it's neck it would focus on the first thing to cross it's vision, in this case, Cab, lifting one of it's fin-like paws to bring it down on top of them, the new holes in it's neck dripping orange. Robe would look over her shoulder to notice first blood being drawn, and that the behemoth seemed to have momentarily lost track of it's assailant, Robe decided on her first drawing, drawing a bulky circle with a  nub on one end and a wiggly line coming out of that nub, she'd look down at RT and after sharing a nod, the drawing fell off of the canvas, becoming a real object. She'd grab this object and bring it over the railing, yelling down to Necktie “Hey! Mr Necktie! Catch this!” grinning as a spark ignited on the fuse of her painted bomb as she tossed it to him.
Zaku: "Welp...let's get to work." Summoning Fix once again, Pack gave it a few test swings before going for the big guy himself...and just thrusting air.
"...Right, shit. You don't have ranged functions." Yeah, no shit it doesnt, you goof. Try again, next time.
Gigi: He landed with a skid on his back, turning his head to see Pack doing....whatever it was he was doing. "y-you don't know how to use your own weapon?!" Dear Satan, this was looking to be some kind of hopeless between a human and a PR representative. He wasn't able to think on that statement too long,  hearing something familiar telling him something and....
SHIT
He grabbed the thing, fumbling rather comically for a few handslaps' worth of time before slinging it somewhere--anywhere, and running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
"you're going to need to get close to it somehow unless you want to launch your weapon, which for the record I do NOT Advise!!"
Dezzy: Cab’s dizzyness spell wore off too little to late as  the goopy hand of the ghost came slamming down on their little body. They grunted in pain as the monster’s paw pressed against their back, seeping its weird paint into Lessy’s clothes. Normally Cab would be happy another one of Lessy’s flamboyant outfits would be unwearable but now wasn’t the time. Feebly, she tried to crawl out from under the ghosts paw but, as Silver the hedgehog would say, “Its no use!”
But instead, Cab seethed wily pully at the half of their body that was free,  “Fucking god dammit!” Cab didn’t want to ask for help, they had to prove themselves capable they couldn't let go of their pride just yet.
Zaku: "Look, it's been a hot minute, alright?" Making shit was one thing, but actually using it was where Pack was rusty. Fine. Let's get physical then.
Only to not even hit the fucker. But hey, he was close. Necktie, can Pack borrow your glasses, because this man's depth perception is fucking infuriating.
Eevelion: Catching Cab underneath it's paw, the behemoth picked up the driver and prepared to shove them in its mouth, that is at least, until Robe yelled from the catwalk “Hey! No eating the attendees! I'd get in huge trouble if I let someone die during this.” Behemoth, now somewhat confused what to do with Cab, sort of just, gingerly set them down on the floor, turning their attention to Pack flailing uselessly at it and giving a swipe at him with their big ol' paw.
As Robe's paint bomb exploded harmlessly away from everyone, she got to brainstorming her next drawing, deciding on a little raincloud that she sent floating over the battleground toward Necktie, drizzling him a little bit before loosing a thunderbolt beneath it.
Gigi: Necktie took this opportunity of confusion to try and swing for another attack, but underestimated the behemoth's speed and...kind of didn't hit where he wanted to.  He tried to put more distance between him and the lizard, but flying backwards sometimes means you just end up bumping on top of a raincloud and getting stuck there. Oh, it felt like paint, he hated this.
Dezzy: Necktie wasn’t the only one having a bad time with the paint monsters. Cab was simply, drenched in goop. They couldn't move as freely till they got all that shit off. Angrily they swiped at their limbs to remove the goop. “Great. Just great. They had to literally nerf the ghost just so you wouldn't die great job, Cab.”
Zaku: Hey-hey, he finally hit the fucker. Granted, on the blunt end of The Fix. And non-lethally at that. But hey, this thing is... surprising goopy. Is that even a word? Goopy?  Pretty durable dino tho.
Eevelion: As the behemoth missed another attack it started to realize, tiny things are pretty hard to hit, still, it wasn't stopping time yet, so it went in to grab that demon that had been buzzing around it trying to poke it, AKA Necktie. Robe was already readying her next drawing, a baseball bat and matching baseball popping out of the canvas as she finished, she grabbed the bat and RT grabbed the baseball, throwing it up in the air while Robe yelled “Fore!” sending the ball flying towards Cab with a meaty thwack.
Gigi: He was trying his darndest to get off of this cloud but its like, kind of hard to get off of a paint-cloud without making a mess and he was trying to get covered with as little paint as possible, which was like trying not to fall in the mud pit of a game show obstacle course. In fact, he was too preoccupied to notice a the monster swat at him, which he tired to stop with his spear, but it just went through harmlessly and he got absolutely clamped.
"THIS SUIT IS -----GHGHGHHFPFPPGPP," he got cut off before he could lament what brand it was, or if it was new or not, but we can only assume it was expensive.
Zaku: Aaand another swing. And another hit absorbed by the meat. Y'know that old show from the twenty first century way back then about the square sponge and how one episode had him absorbing punches like a...well, sponge? Yeah, imagine that but with a knife and a giant chubby [REDACTED]Zilla.
Dezzy: Chaleco would of been proud of that meaty thwack upside Cab's head. Unfortunately, they aren't him and that smack disoriented them once more that it made them miss the thing by just a hair. " Seriously?!" Cab called out to Robe. They then mumbled fustratedly as they rubbed the side of their head.
Eevelion: After a quick high five over that sick baseball pitch and swing Robe and RT put their hands to their chins (or roughly where the chin would be, in RT's case) trying to think of what to draw up next, hmm, let's let them get back to you next round. Now that the behemoth had gotten a hold of that pesky mosquito they decided to kill two birds with one mosquito shaped stone as they threw the soggy Necktie at Pack.
Zaku: And anotha stab. What the fuck, man. What kind of paint is that Robe kid working with? Also, hey Necktie. Yeesh, that must be frustrating to have all that paint on you, huh?
"You alright?" He asks them, lending a hand to help the demon up.
Dezzy: All that rage in a tiny pink body  built up enough resolve for Cab to say fuck you to this unlucky streak and shoot the fucker straight in the chest where Cab assumed its heart would be. Even after the shitshow their performance started it, it did feel good for them to get one good hit in and they smirked to prove that.
Gigi: He took the hand, knowing full well that depending on the paint it was possible he'd end up glued there if he waited too long. He REALLY hoped the ghost wasn't acrylic, but he also REALLY REALLY hoped the ghost wasn't oil either. It was too thick to be watercolor. This was unfortunate all around.
He tried to shake himself off, getting little flecks of orange scattered around. The human thankfully had it covered, it seemed. "I'll manage, I guess." He tried to run and take a hit at the ghost, but he was moving exceptionally slower than he was already and opted to throw the bident instead to try and get a proper hit--which uh, didn't work out so hot.
Eevelion: The behemoth was kind of surprised to see a bullet get lodged so deeply in itself, losing focus on its attackers and instead clumsily trying to use its paws to dig it out. Robe and RT meanwhile snickered to themselves as they set out sheets of canvas on the floor of the catwalk, they'd need some more room for what they were making, and once those were set out, they'd get to work putting together their project.
Gigi: Necktie proceeded to move, taking the opportunity to grab his spear and stab again....but the stab wasn't very successful. This felt like too long between attacks, and he took it as an opportunity to try  and put distance between them once more.
Dezzy: "Well that was almost as short-lived as Lessy's relationship with her mother." Dark humor. It helps ease the pain as their next shot for the chest was absorbed in the thing.
Zaku: Anotha' stab, anotha' failed attempt for it to do damage. Seriously, what kind of paint was this kid using??
Eevelion: While everyone down on the testing floor was having their fun, Robe was finishing up her painting, after a brief look at her work, she grabbed RT and flew up to the ceiling with him where he snapped his fingers, causing a tidal wave of paint to cascade to the floor below. The behemoth didn't notice the wave forming behind it, but they did manage to pull the bullet out of them, they would have gone in for another attack, were it not for the wave crashing into them as they were getting ready.
Gigi: Oh, he was moving way too slow now, and even if he had two sets of wings he got hit anyway and got slammed down into the paint abyss, and hard.
Dezzy: Cab quickly climbed up the behemoth's tail as to avoid getting hit  by the oncoming wave. All the meanwhile they clung like a cat on the thing's tail, Cab wondered where everything went wrong. Maybe they'd go to the shooting range and work on their came some more while they were still in control of Lessy's body. After a nice long bath of course.
Zaku: Alright, you big chubby painted fuck, Pack's getting pissed. Finally managing to pierce the fatty, jolts of electricity surged from the blade and into the big chungus of a ghost.
Was...was that meme still relevant in the  22nd century? What even is relevant.
Eevelion: The behemoth kind of stumbled under the wave, but it wasn't too unpleasant for it, just kind of annoying at most, what was REALLY annoying though was getting shocked in the side, the electric weapon charring a section of their goopy skin, the behemoth brought up a goopy paw, about to slap the offending demon when Robe called out "Alright that's enough for now, the test is over. Back in the pen for now" And like a puppy heeling to it's master the behemoth obliged, heading back behind the steel doors as it closed. Robe would clap for the victorious(?) testees "Good job everyone on not getting TOTALLY smashed, though I think the results would have been more interesting with a couple more attendees this was still very insightful." Taking out her remote she'd flick a switch and drains would begin siphoning the flood of paint from the room "Anyways, give the room a few minutes to empty out and you'll all be free to go, if you wanna hand in your clothes to the other researchers we can get them cleaned. I in the meanwhile will go return Artie to stasis, I'll return in a few minutes." Taking RT's hand in hers she'd exit the chamber through the same door she had entered, leaving the party alone in a slowly draining pool of paint.
Gigi: Necktie was splayed out on the floor, crusted in orange, just contemplating his life and his life choices. So this is how it was, huh, getting beaten by a paint ghost. Irony was one hell of a drug. Finally, he got up, removing his jacket (leaving a very fun and flirty orange triangle on his collar. caution, slow-moving vehicle.)
That being said, he held the jacket out as far away from the rest of his body as possible, watching the coattails drip. Disgusting.
Dezzy: Cab Declawed themself from the beast as it left and trudged their way back to the group. Lessy's hoodie and socks were the only real casualty of the event. Her boota, gloves and shorts were made of spandex and rubber so the paint just slide off. However it really wasn't any more favorable that Cab was left in a bikini for a top till they got home. The crossed their arms, unpleased with many things, but mainly themself.
Zaku: He hit it. That's all that matters from this out come. Returning Fix to it's base form, he now took note of the paint coating his clothes.
Well shit. He hoped that paint wasn't acrylic. Clothing choices weren't his forte.
Eevelion: A few minutes later and the floor had mostly drained away, just in time for Robe to re-enter through the main door with a spring in her step "Hello hello everyone, now that the room's drained you're free to go, I gotta stay behind though to clean up some of the mess." she'd grin at the party "I also want to thank you all again for coming, not too many people did but it's still better than nothing, I owe you all, I could take you all out to dinner or something sometime? Nothing too expensive though, I'm on a budget."
Zaku: "I'll keep it in mind. Not a bad ghost you made, kid. You've got some potential in ya." Pack remarked.
Gigi: "He's got a point it's...quite the vexing little bugger," His smile was strained but only because of the clothes, really, there was a real warmth to his tone. "And that's fine, just uh, tell your dad I said hi or something."
Dezzy: Cab stared as the paint began to drain slowly from the area. What an awful day,  what would papa Wayfarer say if he could see Lessy now? Long story short Cab was bummed. They didn't want to make eye contact with any of the demons and stared at the floor as they walked. The only thing other than tiled floor she made eye contact with has her boobs.
Her perky little boobs that had some left over paint on them. Lessy would probably be into body paint. Once again they started to disassociate as someone other than Cab drew a little star on their chest.
Glaxay was due for paint job again Lessy remembered. Just as she thought of that she realized where she was again. Shoot, did Cab take over during the WHOLE test? It seemed so as Robe was congratulating them for their participation for the day. "Fuck yeah we did!" She cheered, unaware of whether it was technically true or not, "sweet free too? Today was fucking awesome!"
Eevelion: "Well you guys weren't really fighting a ghost per se, that's why you didn't have to use nullifiers, you were fighting one of Artie's constructs, kinda like those things I kept throwing at you but with a lot more work put into it, instead of those little doodles." She clapped her hands together "Anyways though, if you change your mind or wanna call up the favor you have my number, well actually you don't, except Necktie he might have my home number, just call HQ they know how to reach me." Taking a mop and a bucket she'd start scrubbing down the test area, waving off the others as they left.
Zaku: Nullifiers? Uh...huh. That was a new thing. But hey, Pack would have time to get used to all of this demon tech mumbo jumbo properly.  But for now, he's got a favor in his pocket, and that outcome seems pretty nice, yeah? Yeah.
Now to get home and try to wash this shit off. This'll be an interesting story for Netti
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getmespidey · 6 years
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Baby Steps 1.
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PREVIEW || part 2. || part 3. || MASTERLIST
* 2 years ago *
The day your first year of college was officially over and you had summer to enjoy. You hadn’t been the most present socially so after a long and deserved nap all you wanted to do was see Peter. It didn’t matter where, but you desperately needed that social interaction that been denied to you. How could your first year already be so hard on you?
Closing the door to your small apartment you looked out the window and imagined when Peter would be able to meet up with you. In the mean time you decided to cook up something for the both of you, take a shower and a nap. Not necessarily in that order.
A few hours later you were woken up by the rushing passing of hard steps right outside your door. You didn’t really live in the nicest neighborhood so you were used to being woken up rudely in all odd hours. 
Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you looked at your phone and nothing from Peter, but also nothing from Tony or Happy and that meant he was fine. Just a little late. You decided to go for that shower since you had no idea when Peter would show up to eat.
A loud crash startled you from inside the bathroom. You quickly put your clothe back on and went to check on where the noise was coming from. Stepping out you screamed as you bumped into Peter.
“Whoa, Y/N! Sorry.” Peter’s voice was low and apologetic.
“Peter! What are you doing?” you said half angry while punching his chest.
“I came to see you. We’re supposed to have dinner and I’m here to pick you up.”he smiled proudly at you.
He was wearing his suit and had a bag over his shoulder.
“I’m just going to have a shower and then I’ll get started on our dinner.” you said heading back to the bathroom. “You can change if you want or take a shower while I make dinner.” you screamed over your shoulder.
“You know we could cut that off the list if I go in with you.” his voice lower.
“Don’t you dare. I really need to eat something before.”
“But I miss you!”
“I don’t care, honey!” you shut the door before he could say anything.
You were relieved to finally have some peace. Probably the first time you and Peter spent together in two weeks where both of you were paying attention to the other and not falling asleep. He was working hard with the Avengers and you with college. It seemed like you guys didn’t really have time for each other lately.
“So...” He said once you were both sitting on the sofa watching Stranger Things once again.
You waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t you nudged him with your foot.
“I was talking to Tony two days ago about this weekend. How I wanted to do something nice for you... For us. And he said we could spend the weekend at his house in the Hamptons.” he looked at his food and focused maybe shy about the offer.
Obviously you weren’t expecting that, but you would be a fool to let an opportunity like that one pass.
“That would be amazing. Remind me to get him something nice as a thank you gift.”
“What would you give the man that has it all?” he asked smiling at you now. A lot more comfortable.
“Well, I could just give him a refrigerator magnet and he’d still be over the moon. That man adores me maybe more than he adores you.” you laughed at the complete shocked look Peter had.
“Does not.”
Right after dinner Peter and you made your bags for the weekend. Peter already had his small bag, but he helped you pack two huge ones just for you.
You took your small car and drove a good distance to where you’d be spending the weekend. Truthfully that house was easy 20x your small apartment. 
Both of you enjoyed staying there just the two of you. The privacy and comfort was very much appreciated. It was nothing like being at your place or even when you stayed over at the compound. You rarely stayed the night at May’s place, but the twice a week dinners did make her place feel like home by now. 
Saturday morning Peter woke you up with a huge mug of coffee and mini pancakes. It was lovely having that kind of time with him again. You would never say it out loud but you missed the attention and care free time you used to have back when you were both in high school and he wasn’t yet an Avenger. Your lives as a couple and as individuals had changed so much in the past year. It was almost too hard to believe.
You spent most of your time either in bed... or at the beach just outside the house. Sometimes you guys went for long walks, but you were just really in the mood to be alone with him. No contact with the outside world.
And that is how your weekend went. The best possible and relaxing weekend Peter could have given you and then right when you were supposed to gather your things to head back to the city Peter became weird. He avoided being near you most of the time and he was constantly checking his phone. It started to bother you.
As you sat for half an hour in the car waiting for him you were afraid something bad was going on and in his weird way, he was creating a distance to protect you or something.
“What’s gotten into you? You were fine, like, three hours ago and now you’re... weird.” you said once he got in the car.
He was nervous that’s for sure. He was messing with his fingers on the wheel of the car. He looked at his lap and to the road ahead.
“I was supposed to have asked you this before, but I didn’t because I’m an idiot. So now I’m going to ask and I really don’t want you to freak out.”
You waited and he just kept looking at you.
“Tony didn’t just offer the Hampton house to us.” he said and your heart went from nervous beating to OH MY GOD WHAT THE ...........
“Don’t tell me he’s giving us the house?!”
“No!” he said really fast and started to laugh. You calmed him down, but somewhere deep down you were a bit more nervous now.
“He told me you’re more than welcome to come live with everyone at the Avengers Compound. You know it’s closer to your college from where you live, it’s a lot safer and there’s me. We could share a room... or not. Your choice. And we’d get more time together. Plus, it’s rent free. That whole deal.”
You weren’t really expecting to be asked that. During the whole weekend he didn’t even hint at that. Not that you gave him the time to bring this up, but still. This came out of nowhere.
“I can’t just leave the apartment. I have a contract.” you said kind of sad now, because you wanted to say yes.
“What if I told you that wouldn’t be a problem?”
You looked at peter with that sweet smile and you couldn’t believe that maybe, just maybe, it’d be possible.
“I’d say I would love to move in with you and the worlds mightiest heroes.” You smiled at him pulling him in for a kiss. “Oh my... Does Thor live there?”
His smile faded to an annoyed look. 
“He has a room. Its three doors from mine. He stays there sometimes, but he’s mostly out.”
You kissed his cheek with force leaving a print of your kiss on his face.
“I want to live with you.”
“I’m glad, ‘cause your stuff is already at the compound.” He gave you a crooked smile and you didn’t think you could handle everyday of this.
* P R E S E N T *
You kept looking at yourself in the mirror. It had been a few days where you weren’t feeling that well, but it wouldn’t have alarmed you if your period hadn’t been late. It wasn’t like you to go three days late, actually it never happened before. You kept repeating to yourself that you were fine and all of this was in your head. It was finals week after all and you’d been a mess trying to make it through without losing your mind. After this week you could rest up and you’d be back to normal. It was only the stress getting to you. It was only the stress getting to you. It was only the…
Your thoughts were interrupted by the window opening by your side and Peter crawling in with his Spider-Man suit. He took off the mask once he was inside and smiled sweetly at you. 
“Hey, Y/N.” he said as he put your face between his hands and kissed you softly.
“Hey, Pete. How was it out there today?” you asked making conversation to hide your thoughts like he would have been able to figure them out.
“Not much. I stopped some thefts and prevented an accident. Nothing major.” you thought it was a little cute how he thought what he did wasn’t major, but every day you were just as proud as you were worried.
You had both been together for almost three years now and you hoped to every God out there that if you were right, this wouldn’t be the end.
“I’m going to take a shower and check on Tony. I think I may have damaged one of the web shooters.” he said rubbing his wrist.
“Are you okay though?” you asked as he headed for the shower.
“Yeah. The wrist is a little tender, but as soon as I’m out of the shower it’ll be 100% again. I just need to take a look at the shooters.” he shut the door and with that you were alone with the mirror again.
It was impossible. You were both careful, right? It’s not like you guys had unprotected sex all the time. You didn’t. That’s not it. YOU WERE FINE! You screamed inside your head.
Laying down in bed you felt a little sick with the thought of how unsure your future now was. You stared at the ceiling with your hands of your stomach. 
Peter came out of the shower and talked for the longest time, but you just didn’t have the energy to focus on what he said. You felt sick and you wanted to cry, but at the moment you felt so disconnected that you did nothing but look at the ceiling.
“I’m going down to the lab. Dinner will be ready soon, so see you at the table?” he leaned down to peck your lips. 
You managed to mumble something along the lines ok yeah and he took off once again. You sat up and pulled your laptop so you could finish studying for your tests. No success there. All you could think about was ‘maybe I’m pregnant’ and you had no idea what to do.
**
I know this is not the best first chapter, but I just wanted to post a little something today. I’ll try not to take too long with the next chapter.
taglist:
@derekxsammy @littlefrota @iris-suoh @beautiful-holland @softboy-holland
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