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avengerscompound · 3 years

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Small Gods: Lazy Mornings - 5

Lazy Mornings: A Captain America Fanfic

Lazy Mornings Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1696

Warnings: smut (MF, vaginal sex)

Synopsis: Steve Rogers has trouble taking time for himself. When his friends set him up with a person with a very unusual skill, perhaps he can learn that the quiet moments are just as important as everything else.

Chapter 5

There was something a little magical about the way the sun crept through the curtains as Steve slowly woke. It fell in a clear beam over the bed, and dust motes floated in it, glowing brightly like they were alive and filled with their own kind of magic. From the beam the light diffused through the room, blanketing in a soft white haze that made everything seem like it was wrapped in cloud.

Steve had slept well. Better than he could ever remember sleeping before. It was the good, deep, restful sleep that most people just long for. There was no urgency to waking either, so he did it gradually, appreciating the scent of coffee, linen, and fresh-cut grass, along with the warmth of your body pressed against him.

You slept so close to him - practically buried into his side. Sleeping with another person usually brought with it some minor discomforts that were a trade-off to the intimacy of sharing such a space with another person. Hair that got in your mouth. Awkward arm placements. Overheating from the shared body temperature. Accidentally getting kicked in rather tender areas.

There was none of that with you. The bed which would normally be too soft for him to be truly comfortable was somehow perfect. The air temperature was cool, but the bed was perfectly warm in that way that made it hard to leave. The way you tucked in against him felt like the two of you were made for each other. Like two pieces of a puzzle, or Lego bricks.

You made a soft sound and your arms tightened around him. “Good morning,” you mumbled, in a sleep-heavy voice. “Will you stay?”

Steve hummed and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. “Mm-hmm.”

He wasn’t even quite sure what he was agreeing to. Now? Forever? He didn’t know, but either way that answer felt right.

You hummed and nuzzled at his neck, kissing his throat and gently grazing your teeth over his skin. “Good,” you whispered. “I have plans.”

He pulled back and looked down at you, smiling a lazy smile. You looked ethereal in the soft morning light. You returned his gaze and reached up and ran your finger along his jaw so that his morning stubble scratched over your fingertips. For a moment that’s all either of you did - just lay there gazing at each other - and then he broke. He leaned in and kissed you deeply. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled yourself tightly against him. There was a slowness to your movements that seemed to translate to a deeper intimacy. There was no rush. No desperate need. The two of you took your time to just kiss and caress each other’s skin. He ran his hands over you as you raked your fingers through his hair. Your hips moved slowly against him so your cunt rubbed against his morning erection.

The pressure of your body against his, the warmth that radiated from your skin, and the way his body buzzed under your fingers, made that lazy, cozy feeling start to blend into his desire and need.

He kissed your throat and massaged your ass as he slowly rutted against you. Your fluids dripped from your cunt and coated his cock. He hummed and when the head of his cock caught on your entrance, he pushed, slowly sinking into the warm passage. The movement was met, not with a moan, but a soft contented sigh.

He rolled so he was on top of you and the two of you began to move together. He rolled his hips penetrating you deeply, taking his time to feel every ridge and contour of your internal walls. You counter, arching your back and rocking under him and clenching around him. The kissing was a constant tender caress. Lips against lips and necks, collarbones, and chest. It added to that soft buzz inside him, and the world became fuzzy and far off as the two of you made love.

“You feel so good, Steve,” you hummed against his throat.

He moaned in response and brought his lips to yours. You nudged him and he rolled over so you were straddling him. You broke the kiss and sat up, closing your eyes and letting your head loll back as you twisted and circled your hips while staying seated on his cock. He watched you, mesmerized by the way your body moved as you rode him. He ran his hands over your breasts and down your sides, letting one settle on your hip and the other over your pussy, working your clit with his thumb. You moaned and moved a little faster, your lips parted in silent pleasure. Your cunt began to clench and flutter and with a deep moan, you came, your body seizing up. Steve grabbed your hips and began to thrust up into you, chasing his own release. When it came, it was like his orgasm washed through him like a wave, he closed his eyes and groaned as his muscles clenched and he spilled inside you.

You stayed sitting on top of him for a moment, just letting yourself relax and come down from your orgasm high. As your breathing returned to normal, you climbed off him. “I’m going to make breakfast,” you said, grabbing your robe and sliding it on.

Steve stretched and watched you leave the room as he debated what to do. He hadn’t ever had breakfast in bed, and he couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t comfortable right where it was.

His need to be up and participating in the world ended up winning out, and he dragged himself out of bed. He tried to keep in the spirit of the lazy morning though. He used the bathroom and pulled on his boxers and t-shirt before coming out to find you. The kitchen smelled of coffee, bacon, and maple syrup, and you stood at the stove singing to yourself. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist as he nuzzled into your neck.

“Really giving yourself to it, huh?” You asked. “I can feel it. Makes me feel a little more real.”

“If that’s all it takes for you to feel that way, I’ll have to do this more often,” Steve said.

You laughed and turned, kissing his cheek. “If you really want to spoil yourself, the paper should be on the doorstep.”

Steve let you go and went to the door. Sitting on your welcome mat in the hall was a copy of the New York Times. He picked it up feeling a little bewildered. Since waking up from the ice he’d seen newspapers being sold, but he’d never known anyone who bought them. He’d been dropped into a world of leading-edge technology where the new was delivered digitally in an instant. It was all tablets and holographic screens in his world now. Having an actual honest-to-god newspaper felt a little like he was stepping back in time.

He took it to the reading nook you had by the window and reclined back on the window bench, pulling the plush blanket you had sitting there over his legs and unfolding the paper.

It was strange how strong the scent of fresh-cut grass was, even though he wasn’t sure he could smell it as much as he formed the idea of it in his head just from being around you. If he looked down through the window, it was just another busy New York street below him. You lived across from Central Park though, and looking right ahead he had views of trees and grass he could sink into the illusion of a Sunday in the suburbs with neighbors mowing their lawn while he took his time to read the paper.

“Don’t you look comfortable here,” you said, bringing over a tray. Sitting on it was a plate filled with pancakes, eggs, and bacon, a mug of hot coffee, and a glass of orange juice. He shifted a little and took the tray, placing it over his lap, and you took a seat in the wingback chair beside him.

“You’re spoiling me,” Steve said, picking up his coffee and breathing in the aroma. “You’re not eating?”

“When I have someone who’s really giving themselves over to what I have to offer, I don’t actually need to eat,” you replied.

Steve surveyed you, raising his eyebrow. “Thor always needs to eat.”

You laughed. “Thor and I are slightly different entities. And I don’t pretend to understand it. I am feeling it very strongly from you right now though because this is not something you let yourself do very often. It’s nourishing.”

“For us both,” Steve said and started to eat. He took his time to savor it all. It wasn’t the best food he’d ever had, but it seemed to hit the spot exactly. The coffee was hot and brewed just how he liked it, bitter but not burned. The eggs were sunny side up but the white had cooked through while the yolk was still runny. The bacon was salty and crispy and mixed with the maple syrup on the pancakes perfectly.

“Do you think we can actually work long term?” Steve asked as he ate. “We seem to need such different things. And what would happen if I stopped fighting and just retried? Would that affect how this worked for you?”

You shrugged. “To answer your second question first; no it wouldn’t. Eventually, you’d stop appreciating the lie-ins and it’s really in the desire and appreciation of them that gives me my power,” you said. “As for the first, I couldn’t say. No one knows what the future brings or how long people can stay compatible. It’s working now, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Steve agreed, and sipped on his coffee thoughtfully. Maybe he needed this. A reason to balance his life so he took something for himself once in a while. Maybe appreciating the quiet moments more would help him get through the chaos of his everyday life. Maybe his friends had been right, it was time for him to get a life too.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #small gods #lazy mornings

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

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It’s The Avengers (03x06)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 06: Mrs Silvertongue

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: one of those tropes. one of those hnnghh tropes

Word Count: I was supposed to post this four hours ago but my colleague called me to play and that dumb dork was drunk while I was laughing throughout. So, here it is. Also...I’m hot. No, I am actually hot. The temperatures are going up! I need some cool breeze.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Everybody stay together. Do not make eye contact with strangers. Do not buy stuff you don't know about and definitely do not leave your eatables unattended."

The camera switched from Loki's barely composed face to your stuffed one strapping the backpack securely behind you before looking at Loki and the sandwich sitting on the seat between the two of you.

"Wha," you stated, still not swallowing, "iss wight hea. Sop bein a wowwie wat."

The camera in Javi's hand caught the bustle on the 'station' where you all were supposed to board shuttles to be on your way to another galaxy before travelling to Knowhere. The area was thousands of square feet wide made in a dome shape outside a planet currently under the supervision of the soldiers form Andromeda. After the War, the security had been tightened around galaxy travel to monitor any remains of the Radicals who had supported Thanos and were currently the most wanted criminals in the universe. Screens everywhere showed the flights and timings along with various commercials for products all around the galaxy. Some you were able to read thank to the translation glasses the Hardy boys provided you, others were a jumbled mess of strokes and illegible patterns. Creatures from all around the wonderful black expanse moved about in this station while soldiers who looked like they had been overly tanned scanned them and their belongings before sending them on their designated shuttles. It all worked as an airport. Except for one thing.

"Well, at least there's no random selection here that is not based on some 'racist profiling'," you quoted, getting a nod of agreement from Javi.

"Oh, there is racist profiling here," Loki interrupted your blissful thoughts, "but ever since the war, it has just been bent towards the ones who helped Thanos."

"Huh, even space isn't free from such mindsets then."

An announcement on the screens caught Loki's attention. "That's our shuttle. Come on. Lulu, up."

Lulu jumped and settled on Loki's shoulder and the camera caught a full grin on your lips.

You: *smirk* And he was the one who didn't want me to take Lulu from the desert *tilt your head* you know what... he is exactly like a choco lava cake. Sturdy looking outside but soft, mushy and melting aaaaall on the inside *giggles*

Loki: she was talking about me, wasn't she? *narrows eyes at the camera* What was she saying? Javi, tell me. Javi, we're good friends. Come on, Javi. You're stuck with me. Javi. Javi. Hey. I'm the only one who can get you out of this hell hole. Javi. *looks at Javi's figure walking away* Javi. Javi! Come on! Javi!!

The creature scanning your line seemed to come out of some American writer's stereotypical description of a green alien except for the part where her huge beady black eyes had slits, just like a cat. She was stoic as a feline too, going about her job without any emotion on her face. And when it came your turn to stand underneath the scanner, her ignorance of your greetings did not help your nerves.

"You are a...terran," she stated more than she asked.

"Yes, ma'am." You blinked like a dumb animal and tried to remember to smile.

"Your business in the galaxy?" Her slow and positively raspy voice interrogated.

"Just travelling with my-" you blinked again while trying to innocently shrug with a hint of shy, looking like a questionable human-"boys. You know, sight seeing."

Those silver slits stared at you for solid five seconds, not even breathing apparently, before stamping a token and handing it to you and diverting her attention to the next passenger- Loki.

You and your bags moved to the other side of the scanner, waiting for Loki and Lulu while Javier made it next to you from the scanner next to yours. The creature looked at the information the scan brought on her screen in a language neither you nor the camera understood. But one thing that was catching the camera's focus was this text blinking in red next to Loki's picture.

"You are Loki," she stated to the God, scrutinising him from head to toe in those black scruffed jeans and t-shirt underneath a deep maroon long jacket.

"Hm," you forced out a light chuckle, "guess Tony and Clint are not the only ones who are weirded out by seeing him in anything other than his New York attire."

"Of Asgard," Loki added with an 'at your pleasure’ smirk.

"A Frost Giant," the lady acknowledged in her raspy voice. "Have you travelled to the Andromeda before?"

"I have, yes. But not in the recent years."

"State your purpose for the visit to the galaxy."

"I am-" he paused to throw a quick look in your direction before going back to his interrogator- "going there on some unfinished business with an old friend."

The lady, stoic like a rock, looked at Loki for the next ten seconds before pressing a button underneath her screen. Somewhere behind you, you and the camera could hear synchronised footsteps. The camera turned to catch seven aliens- five bulky, one bulkier than all the others, and the last one a leaner and less appeasing version of the lady- walk past you towards Loki.

Lulu, who could feel the change in the atmosphere around him, felt himself shifting on Loki's shoulders while his fur stood up like a frightened cat. But never once did that little fluffy boy leave Loki's side.

"Loki, of Asgard," the leaner one announced, "you are to come with us. Please carry your belongings with you. Please refrain from using any means to resist for you will be charged against the law of the peace fleet. Please put your hands forward so we may put diluters on your wri-I see you already have some version of them on your wrist. Very well. Please follow me."

The camera caught you, mouth gaping open and eyes out in refrained horror, looking at Loki while trying to keep your breaths as calm as possible.

"Oh fuck," your breaths forced out, "what the fuck is happening? Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-"

Loki was already moving behind the lean one, the parade of bulky Captain Gantu’s following him with their synchronised boot work. One of them looked down at the camera, sending a glare of yellow through those hollow eyes before turning back, entering what seemed like an elevator. Loki stood right in the middle, his eyes shifting from the lean alien to you for a few seconds before white doors closed and he disappeared from your view.

The camera now came back to your face, which was still staring in that direction, the colour from your skin a little faded, the pupils contracted to their limit, the breaths paused since God knows when. "Oh fuck we're gonna die."

There was a rhythmic pulse beating four times a second while the camera kept shifting- and vibrating a little- between two windows. Out of one window one could see those bulky dudes in attention standing at one door each, not shifting even a muscle while other aliens went about their business. The other window showed the lean guy standing with another alien that was bulkier in the middle. The lean one turned to the window at the rigorous tapping coming from the window.

"Calm down, Lulu," a soothing but tired voice came from out of the frame, making the little one turn towards Loki's figure sitting in what looked like a white chair beside an oval-shaped white table floating in the air, "they're not going to let us out. Not yet at least."

Lulu, who had paused to listen to the God suddenly found himself whimpering till its outright wails were catching everyone's attention outside the room.

"No, n-Lulu stop crying, Lu-" Loki got up from the chair and came to stand beside Lulu in two strides, picking the furry lump in both his hands while keeping his head away from those deafening wails. Slowly but surely, Loki brought the hysterical little lump to his chest, mostly to suppress the noise and wave uncomfortably at the judgmental eyes in his direction. At one point the fly camera-that had sneaked in with events yet unknown- caught an expression on Loki's face that reflected nothing but murder in his eyes. But the very next moment he sighed and brought his hands to stroke the frightened ball of fluff. "Hey, hey, hey," he shushed him, his hands being gentle and his expressions turning soft, "it's okay. It's completely fine. You're fine," he hummed, almost singing it while bouncing the little sobbing and hiccuping floof in his arms, "I'm in here too, aren't I? Right? You are not alone. You are not alone. We'll get out of here together as soon as we know who is behind all this mess, okay?"

The little furball sniffed and wiped his snot off on Loki's shirt. "You didn't have to do that," Loki pointed out with no real purpose to the already made mess. But Lulu was quiet now, possibly looking up at Loki and chirping something only the God understood and chuckled. "Yes-" he stroked Lulu's head- "she'll be fine without us. Once she stops panicking. Yes, yes, you're with me."

Lulu, chirped again, protruding his paw to carefully touch Loki's cheek and chirp some more. Whatever the little one had said, brought the God to a standstill, that tiny smile on his face frozen while his eyes seemed to have travelled somewhere far. "I wish that was true a few years in the past. How different some things would have been."

Lulu tilted his head in confusion while Loki seemed to be visiting certain memories that the camera on Lulu and others around them was not aware of. And all emotion in both these loveable creatures seemed to have been broken by a recognisable voice- so low and seemingly far away- somewhere in their vicinity. Lulu was the first to turn towards the window to the view of the lean guy, jumping at the sight.

And then Loki saw you standing right next to the alien who had arrested him, all colour from his face draining as he watched you flail your hands in some untethered rage right into the expressionless alien standing in front of you out of courtesy.

"Oh...oh no." Loki's face was completely opposite to whatever it is you were going through. Lulu was shifting his gaze between him and you, bouncing in Loki's arms with unadulterated joy. Javier was standing between the two of you with his camera- filming even in the midst of all the chaos.

Before he could compose himself, you were already walking towards him, the alien opening the door for you, letting you inside the room and closing it.

"Hey," your delighted and relieved face greeted Loki, "you guys okay?"

Lulu squirmed and chirped with joy, jumping straight into your arms to bonk his head with your face and rub himself all over you. Loki, on the other hand, stood there like he was seeing a ghost. "What are you doing here? You are not supposed to be here. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh neither did you, Loki," you were quick to point out.

Loki: *inhales* *put his palms together and brings them close to his face* *bends his hands towards the camera* Woman!

"You don't know what I or have not done so don't act like you know what you're doing, kitten," Loki pointed out rather harshly, forcing an offended gasp out of you, "you were supposed to be out there."

Your delight slowly seemed to be turning to an ember of rage. "Oh, I am sorry that tried to use my working brain to help you out in any way I can, your highness! If you wanted to spend more time in this weird jail you should have let me know when these big butts carried you off!"

"This does not concern you so stop," Loki did not let you finish. "Undo whatever it is you did. This is far more dangerous than you can stomach so off you go."

You scoffed and mocked him. "This is fir mir dingiris- well bad news it can't be undone because they think I'm your ride or die."

Loki was basically slapping himself on his face when trying to rub off the tension- along with his skin. "Wh-ha-hyy would they think that?! WHY?"

A whistle blew from behind the camera and Loki instantly caught it; along with catching your arms going across your chest while you tried to look anywhere but in the God's direction.

"Y/N," that soft but threatening growl was enough to crumble all the restraint you came undone faster than a horny teenage boy. "It's no big deal I just told them I'm your wife."

The camera timed the perfect zoom on that face that lost a couple of hundred years as it heard that sentence.

On Earth

"It's no big deal I just told them I'm your wife."

A shrill 'Oh my Gaaaahd' left Scott's lungs while the soda bottle in his hand crushed and burst everywhere. A shriller wail left Peter as he threw his hands at his face in the utter disbelief and fell on the ground. A cushion blew up in the tight grasp of Bucky's hands, making feathers fly everywhere, and Sam stood up with one fist on his mouth and the other pointing at the screen, howling like a mad fan. Pepper watched with insane delight in her eyes while slapping the thighs next to hers that belonged to her husband who sat there looking at the screen with narrowed eyes as if he had seen something wrong- like a glitch maybe. Natasha was the only one maintaining her composure while sipping on her margarita and looking at the camera form under her lashes.

Scott & Peter: *do a whole routine with their hands in unison* I sayyyy Y/N and Loki sittin' in a tree!!! Fake M-A-R-R-I-A-G-E!!!!!

Tony: *confused* Wife?

Vision: I don't get why Scott and Peter are so excited. *looks to his right* Why are they...

*camera pans out to show Wanda barely containing her excitement in her pressed lips*

Wanda: beeeecause they might have a ship, Vis. *looks at the camera and smile a wide toothy smile*

Vision: *tilts his head* but there's no way they could ride a ship in this facility Wanda

Tony: *still confused but in a different position* Wife??

Steve: *blinks* I guess....that's a good...strategy? *frowns* I mean...sure. *hears a sniff from outside the frame*

*camera pans out to show stone-faced Bucky sitting next to him*

Bucky: *barely hides his breaking voice* Goo-*clears his throat*-good infiltration strategy.

Steve: *stares worriedly at him* You okay buddy?

Bucky: *crumbles* no~

Tony: *lying flat on the sofa, face down* *raises his head* His wife??!!!

Sam: *hollering* wife wife baby!! *turns to his side and nudges the person sitting next to him* come on get in on the fun!

Clint: *nearly saves his coffee pot from spilling all over him with Sam's nudge*

Sam: *keeps nudging and dancing in his seat* somebody's having some space fun!

Clint: *moves the pot into his other hand to drink it with hollow eyes looking at nothing, in particular,* somebody's gonna die of some fun

Sam: *all smiles for the camera* huh?

Clint: nothin' *looks at the camera zooming in on his stone face*

Tony: *wheeling out from under his car with tools in his hands* HIS WIFE??!!

Rhodey: *guffaws while clapping his hands over his head till he's wheezing* oh-oh my-oh Jesus! Poor Tony. *wipes the tears from his face* I told him karma is a bitch but I never thought it would come to bite him right in his ass!!! *continues to chortle*

Tony: *stops making his green smoothie to topple the jar into the sink and walk out of the screen screaming in groans* HIS WIFE?!! OH MY GOD!!!

Space PD HQ

You haven't felt Loki breathing since you broke the news to him. He has just been standing there staring at you with faint confusion and curiosity, still as a statue.

"Loki-" you poke him- "Loki, say something! Don't just stand there like that! You're scaring me!"

"Y/N," he finally breathed out, his brows still creased, "do you know how many people I've killed?"

You shrugged. "I don't know? A couple? Do you know how many teenage girls I deceived when I was in high school?"

"How many?" He asks with keen interest before snapping himself back to reality. "Wait, what? No. Why would I need to know that?"

You shook your head casually while leaning on the floating table. "I don't know, I thought we were sharing our darkest numbers; like couples need to know these details. Right?"

"By the Norns," Loki groaned into his palms, rubbing his face hard. "Listen-"

The door hissed open and Mr Lean Alien walked in.

"Well, we haven't been introduced properly. My name is Tsuloche."

"Hi, Tsuloche. I'm Y/N," introduced yourself, closing the distance between you and Loki, your arms rubbing on each other.

"Listen, Tsulcohe, there has been a misunderstanding here. She-"

"Yeah, there's been a misunderstanding," your stressed and scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest, "like taking my husband prisoner for no reason at all?"

Tsuloche brought his nimble green- almost as thin and long as twigs- hands together. "Mrs....uhh...Miss Y/N, Loki has killed a lot of people in the past."

You groaned. "Now you sound just like my husband. I know he's killed a lot. And he's clearly suffering for it right now." You turned your head towards Loki, bringing your fingers to softly pinch his cheeks. "My poor baby."

Loki jerked away from your fingers slightly, whispering, "stop."

You didn't. Your fingers still reaching for those cheeks. "Stop it!"

You smiled as he grabbed your hand with his and held it in a good grip. "Okay, now you're just doing it to embarrass me in front of him."

Tsuloche tilted his head at this scene, blinking those translucent eyelids before his cat-like pupils dilated a little. "Do you know he supported Thanos' cause?"

You tried to yank your hand from his grip but Loki wasn't having it. So you turned back to Tsuloche. "Huh? Yeah, I know. He was undercover there to know his plans and stop him when the time came. What else you got?"

Tsuloche stood there blankly, shifting his gaze between you and the God for a good minute, his scarcely dilated pupils going back. "Why would you marry a criminal?! That too the one who tried to destroy your home?!"

You hummed and tried once again to slip your hands from Loki's death grip but failed- though that did not stir the seriousness away from your face at the alien's question. "Well, for the home invasion part, you'll understand if you ever had spiders, lizards and flies in your home."

Now, this confused the alien further but Loki forced out a laugh at your statement.

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Well, Tsuloche. The first time you see a spider or a lizard in your home, you scream and cry and want that monstrosity to be gone from your place. It's worse if they bring their friends over. At one point you form a plan of attack to get those sons of bitches out of your home because they don't pay the rent, do they? But it is later on that you realise that these spiders or lizards were actually what were keeping the flies away. You know, the flies that were contaminating your food and making you sick. The flies that were bringing disease from all corners. The only thing standing between you and death by flies was this one stubborn spider-" you squished Loki's face with your free hand, making him jerk and grab that other hand too- "who nearly killed all my people but didn't."

"As for the getting married part, Tsuloche, if you're married, you know very well the crimes you forgive when you love someone. I mean, have you seen this guy do anything bad since the War? No. That's 'cause he's been enjoying some downtime with me and my fam, getting to know me, marrying me, and now taking me and our little cuddly alien cat on a honeymoon! Ain't that right Lulu?!"

Lulu chirped.

By now those judgmental pupils were a full-blown dilated dorks looking at the two of you.

"Oh and that guy recording us outside is...is...our...videographer. Yes! That's who he is. There's a whole trend on Earth to put your life on the internet and stuff like that. So, he's here to...record everything we do on our honeymoon. Not everything, of course," you concluded a little loud with pressed lips and a nod as you realised the mistake.

"Nice save, dear," Loki chirped with a smirk.

"Shut up."

Those blown out pupils came back to disclose any emotions that last bit might have given away. Tsuloche cleared his throat. "Well, as...good as it all sounds, I am afraid I cannot let the Silvertongue go."

"Silvertongue?" you mentioned under your breath and looked at Loki's lips in amusement.

Loki caught your eyes darting to his tongue wetting his lips, sighing in a faint sense of defeat. "You know it's not silver. Why are you even looking at me like that?"

The camera caught your brow arch with some suggestions best kept to yourself. "Oh. I know," you sang, still looking at those lips, "I was wondering about what all would be...different if it were."

Wanda: *sits wide-eyed and flushed red* Uhh *clears throat* *presses her lips to suppress her smile* *talks softly with a shakey voice* I don't know what *puts one leg over another* *adjusts herself in the seat* what she meant by cat-that! What she meant by that. *turns red*

Loki just furrowed his brows at you uncomfortably before turning back to Tsuloche.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere without my husband, so..." You sat down on the lone chair in the room.

Tsuloche was already composing his wrinkled raisin face. "Very well then. I hope you find this interrogation room to your liking, Miss Y/N because he is not walking out of here for another seventy-two hours-"

The door hissed open to let in one of his subordinates who handed the alien a tiny cuboid-shaped device. One look at the tiny thing and Tsuloche looked back up with his sharp pupils dilating to the max. "Mrs and Mr Loki, you are free to go. The inconvenience is regretted and the department will provide you safe passage on the next shuttle to your destination."

A little surprised by the sudden turn of events neither of you wanted to let go of this opportunity. "And by our destination you mean anywhere we want?" You are eager to know; something that makes Loki's eyes turn to you and carry an expression barely recognisable on that perfect pale face. Some would even say it was a butt-hurt disappointment.

"Destination means the place you were previously travelling to. Your bags have been transported. Now all you need to do is get on it and enjoy the rest of your honeymoon."

Heaving a sigh of relief, Loki let go of your hands but still smacked away the one coming for his cheek again, making you chuckle. "I have very limited knowledge on the feline species but it almost looks like you're happy to set us free, Tsuloche." Loki quirked his brow in agreement with your statement.

"What?!" Tsuloche was a little taken aback, continuously blinking his translucent eyelids to make those starry eyes contract to their predator like gaze. But he couldn't. "Highly mistaken you are, madam. I am definitely not happy to let you resume your honeymoon with your beloved. I am enraged that you will be going away with a criminal and your monstrous little pet somewhere to spend time together. I am-I am definitely offended by the idea of this hardened criminal getting a second chance at life with someone so beautiful as you!"

You squeaked. "Aw! He thinks I'm beautiful!" Loki rolled his eyes and looked at the camera.

Tsuloche: *highly conscious* you want me to say something in that camera? Is this for their honeymoon album? *Eyes dilate* oooh! *looks at the lens* uhh ahem, do not do anything unlawful you two. Space is a dangerous place. And...and *eyes dilate to their maximum capacity* take care. *Exhales* *wipes something off his face* oh dear! That was really hard.

Space Shuttle

The entire shuttle was empty save for your little group. The seats were comfortable and the legroom quite spacious. Securing Lulu in a seat by the window, you sat down next to him, directly facing Loki. Javier sat next to him, recording the view out of the window.

“So, you sent in one of Javi’s camera flies, found a set of rules that said spouses are allowed to meet their other half and just...went with it?”

“I also used the uninet- the universal network- to find out about Tsuloche’s species and intimidated him with a little show of power. So, yeah. I read the rules of Space and this is the second time I saved your ass, Silvertongue," you state matter-of-factly, stretching your legs as much as possible.

"Don't get so cocky, kitten," Loki purred, fastening his seatbelt, "we still have a lot of places to go. You are lucky some people like your cute face."

Your brows went up and head tilted before Loki realised what he had done. "Aw! You think I'm cute!"

Lulu's camera caught Javier signing something to the two of you. "Keep having such petty arguments and aliens will actually believe you're married," you spoke his words out loud.

Both you and Loki looked at each other. "Married? To him?"

"Married? To her?"

The unison was too much on point. But the cackle eroding into the space out of the two of you made it better.

"You're funny," Loki chortled in Javi's direction.

"In your dreams, weirdo," you added. "Can you imagine? Mr and Mrs Silvertongue?" The laughs came out again while it was Javi's turn to look at Lulu's camera.

Avengers Facility

"No, Nat, I don't think he'll go that way. He doesn't belong there, like, mentally speaking," Scott gesticulated with a lot of hand movements.

"I think Scott's right," Wanda added.

"No, come on. He knows it's his birthright. So that would be the most obvious thing to go for. And we know he wasn't really seen as much once all hell broke loose back home, right?" Nat put forward her point of view while sitting on the sofa in her jammies.

"But if it wasn't that way then?" Pietro asked with keen interest. Nat thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

"Then it definitely would have been the latter. I mean, you were practically raised as one. He was raised as one, right?" Bucky asked Steve. The latter nodded.

"But still," Steve contributed, " there was something wrong there, right? Which is why all of those incidents happened. Are we sure he would still go for it even if he wasn't just another kid?"

Now the lounge went silent, thinking all of it through while the camera showed a very disinterested Clint sitting on the dining table to clean his guns, bows and arrows. The expression in his eyes felt like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

The camera swerved to another person standing by the lounge entrance, looking at the whole scene with utmost disorientation. "What's going on?"

Everyone looked up at Tony standing at the door.

"Oh, we were discussing what surname would Loki choose if he and Y/N got married?" Nat casually answered.

"Like, would he go for Loki Odinson or Loki Laufeyson," Peter explained.

The camera zoomed in on Tony's face, which was trying to do it's best to understand what was going on before giving up and just tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at everybody.

"They have been at it for two hours," a defeated voice comes from Clint's corner, who was looking at some distant void while cleaning his weapons.

"This...is a hypothetical situation, right?" Tony made sure. He had to make sure.

It took a second before everyone shrugged, nodded and hummed in agreement. None- except one camera- caught Scott and Peter crossed his fingers behind their back.

"Oh my God, I just got it!" Scott exclaimed out of nowhere with a new realisation on his face. "He doesn't have to think about the surname. It's Y/N who'll be making the choice."

And just like that, the seriousness in the air changed into a shared epiphany and everyone agreed without any vote against that thought.

"You guys are having a lot of fun with this," Tony sang sarcastically with judgement filled in his tone.

"Yeah, what about it?" Pepper called out from her comfy armchair while eating cheeseburgers and sipping soda, looking at Tony for an answer.

Tony, on the other hand, shifted his weight between his legs. "No. Nothing. You have fun, sweetie. Kisses! Muah! Muah! Muah! Please don't kill me in my sleep tonight."

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bugaboowritings · 5 years

Text

Tikki Talks: ABOUT PAST LADYBUG IN PARIS!- Fic

Tikki spits at fine art

This could connect to my Past!Ladybugs AU, but it fits better in what I think could happen in canon if Tikki were to talk about the past ladybug holders and their hidden history. (It builds up slowly and it’s long so enjoy)

May write a second part ....

Marinette stacked the last of her books on her shelves. Knowing very well that they wouldn’t be touched until the start of the new school year. Being dust collectors until she needed a last-minute review on the past semester.

“Can’t believe that school ended. Too fast if you ask me.” Marinette reflected. Throwing her head back to look at her red and black spotted kwami while she tucked the last bit of her commissions in a cardboard box.

“All good things must come to an end. Whether we try to stop them or not.” Tikki nibbled on her cookie. Quickly stuffing her mouth with more baked goods before Marinette could question her tone.

With her room now cleaned, Marinette could finally breathe without her anxious ideas creeping on her neck. Her room decluttered from the mess (burden) of schoolwork and commissions deadlines. Her schedule that once hung with sticky notes and reminders now was wiped off and nearly empty.

Nearly.

Of course, it still had some events here and here scattered around. Like Adrien’s rumored trip out of the country and a party that was planned before the summer break was near.

Her classmates were relaxing with their family as Marinette took the silent in her home with a grain of salt. Knowing that it could easily be revoked with a blink of an eye.

On cue, she heard her father call her down to the bakery. Marinette swiftly threw her purse around her shoulders for Tikki to join her.

Tourists were already flooding in great numbers. Whether in groups or with translators, they all enjoyed the idea of having a fresh-baked pastry for breakfast. So orders enter the counter quicker and buns were already baking in the oven for the next dozen. The heat of the machines, which could beat the burn of global warming, made the small store sweat. Sabina hastily urged her daughter to open a window or two and get started on their iced teas for the lunch rush. Marinette, doing what she was told, couldn’t help but think to herself that this wasn’t what she had in mind on how she would spend her summer break.

Free from her responsibilities from school she was bombarded with the task of keeping a business open. One that didn’t stop till the people did. Don’t get it wrong, Marinette loved working in the bakery. It was an easy way to lose her worries in the recipes and glass bowls. It was like how people ran to clear their mind or draw to help them relax. It was just hard to take in the scent of fresh cinnamon and sweet, organic fruit-fillings when someone was breathing down her neck to get their order in. Luckily, her mother could handle the customers with ease.

“Marinette, honey,” Sabine beckoned while she waved off to the last customer.

“Yeah, mom,” Marinette answered back. Cleaning up the flour she spilled on the floor.

“Why don’t you go off with your friends or get some fresh air? Last thing you need to do if worry about the bakery.” Her mother hummed. Marinette couldn't help but turn to her father. Who gave her a nod and a smile, telling her that it would be good for her to get some air.

-------

“See you in a bit then.” Marinette waved. Closing the backdoor before she overwhelmed the air-conditioning with the heat. Pulling out her phone to call up her best friend.

-------

Marinette walked the streets of Paris alone for the first time in not so long time ago. The one day she was free to make plans everyone else seemed to be busy. Alya had to take her little sisters to a summer event their school was hosting. Rose and Juleka were handling some details for Kitty Section for an upcoming gig. Mylene was on a date with Ivan. Alix was- actually she preparing to do a mural near the Louvre. Technically, Alix was working but told Marinette if she could come by to say hi. Maybe even go into the museum to check out the new exhibit her dad and older brother were working on.

Tikki peaked out her head from Marinette's bag. Taking in the warm, sunny day as she softly hummed, “It’s surprising to finally have some peace and quiet.”

“If the Effiel Tower isn't nearby then it’s not something that tourists tend to 'overflow' in this time of year,” Marinette recalled her past experiences.

"It really has changed so much," Tikki admitted. Marinette opened her mouth but quickly close it as she reached a crowded traffic light. Cars racing passed while she awkwardly stood by bystanders. Holding her tongue as the light finally turned red, allowing her to walk safely and quickly to the other side.

"Tikki, " Marinette hushed, away from curious ears. "This isn't your first time in Paris?" Holding her bag closer. "There been other ladybug holders in France, right?"

Marinette imagined the history behind her earrings. Tikki has been around since the beginning of the beginning so she could have seen when Paris was built or when France barely had its name and borders set. She could have seen the Renaissance flourished or observed both World Wars. Tikki could have been there in the French Revolution, there when Napoleon surrender or when he crowded his wife queen. Witnessed the construction of Versailles. Testified to the history books when The Hundreds' Year War took over Europe or suffered alongside Parisians as the Reign of Terror shook the streets. Tikki could have seen the things that Marinette can only read.

Tikki bit back her tongue. She mentioned the other miraculous holders that have passed to Marinette. However, never really went into detail about them. Her current holder knew a bit, but revealing the history of creation could be a bit shocking. At one point in time, finding out that a little creature like her is the god of it all have made people mad. Knowing that what they believe was wrong or had no real purpose. However, Tikki wasn't in the Middle Ages or surrounded by monks. She was at the hands of her Chosen. Someone that was picked to wear her miraculous for a reason.

Pushing out an old smile, Tikki replied: "It's better if you saw it yourself, Mari."

----- Alix was nice enough (or maybe didn't really care) to let Marinette use her admission pass. Offering it to her when Marinette explains that she needs inspiration for her upcoming designs when asked why she rushed to this part of town so quickly.

For the summer break, the museum was a bit lonely compared to its usual numbers. Better for Marinette in the end since now she doesn't have to pretend to be on her phone so she could openly speak to Tikki. Without anyone thinking she's crazy for holding a conversation with her bag.

Marinette acknowledged the obvious when she looked over the museum's map. "The only known Ladybug artifact in this building is the hieroglyphics in the Egyptian Exhibit. Which did gained some popularity thanks to the Ladyblog," She crossed her legs. "How could there be other artifacts here? Surely, they would be noticed by now. Especially with Alya investigating Ladybug."

"They're here." Tikki winked. "They just hide under the crevices of history and the impossible." Flying out of the bag and marking their destination on the map. "You just have to know where to look."

---

Marinette wrinkled the map in her hands as she walked by the paintings. All sporting diverse techniques that made pigments seem to jump out and touch her. Stepping slowly to the corner of the room to a portrait that Tikki wanted to see. Directing her to a large painting. Which didn't look that exceptional really. . .

"A Cavalier."

Marinette pulled out her phone again to type the name of the artist in the search bar. Only to meet a loading screen due to the Louvre's slow wifi. “I don’t get it, Tikki,” Marinette whispered, not helping herself as she impatiently tapped on the screen. “Why is this so personal to you?” Her mind bounced back to the hallways filled with grand and spectacular works of arts. How structures of marble were crafted to look like silk on a hot day or canvases had perfectly mirrored a queen’s flawless hair and jewels. Yet, she was here by a painting that didn’t really pique her interest. All as the internet lagged on her phone. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a peck of red flying out of her bag.

“Tikki!!” she hushed. Keeping her screams in her throat as she jumped. Throwing her hands up as her eyes widen in horror. Whipping her hair around, almost breaking her neck to see if anyone was around to witness a red bug-mouse floating up to a priceless painting.

“Tikki, there is a sign that explicitly says ‘DON’T TOUCH’! Tikki, wha-what are you doing?”

Tikki looked back at Marinette, "Showing you what hides under history.”

“Tikki, no-”

Then Tikki did it. She did the worst thing that she could ever do to a work of art. She spat on it. She spat on the painting worth more than her organs in the black market. Tikki, the god of creation, spat on a priceless, antique work of art.

Marinette felt her heart drop at that moment. As if someone dumped a weight on her poor, fragile soul making it hit the bottom of her stomach. Throwing her knees on the ground. She’s going to jail. She’s going to be charged for vandalism. Then she will be a wanted criminal. Then be imprisoned for life. Then not only be away from Adrien but never be able to ask him to the movies. With her in a small cell with no way out Hawkmoth will be able to akumatized Paris without her to stop him. Chat Noir will be forced to work harder and face the damage after an Akumas. Paris will fall in a dark reign of power. Then she will be dragged for leaving Paris when they needed her. Adrien would never want to date her. Who would blame him!? Who would want to date a criminal or a failed superhero? Then she will never have a house to call her own or three kids named Emma, Louis, and Hugo and she can forget about the pet hamster the moment she gets cuffed up and taken to-

Marinette’s anxious thought peeled the color from her face. Her anxiety could have turned her lips blue if Tikki didn’t speak up. Grabbing her holder’s attention and tongue as they awed at that Tikki has done. Yet, spitting (magic spit, of course) on the painting seemed rough and boorish but it changed the painting for the better. Or revealed a hidden layer.

What once stood a man with brown curly hair and a mustache now a woman with black wavy hair. The simple, light brown tabard turned a bright red with black ladybug-spots, ending above her knees. Underneath her tabard, was a long, white sleeved shirt with a lace collar. With trimming that Marinette wished she knew how to mimic. A black cloth corset replaced the blue that hugged her waist as the black scabbard stayed in place.

As the painting became a totally different one, Marinette only focused on her face and hands. Her pale face carried light, blue eyes that were covered with a red mask. Carrying no expression. In her gloved hands, the woman held onto something that Marinette was familiar with.

The yo-yo.

“She- she was a ladybug holder,” Marinette whispered. “She’s a Ladybug. . .”

“Marinette,” Tikki smiled. Standing proudly in front of this astonishing canvas. “I present you to La Coccinelle. A hero that once walked the streets of Paris and worn the same earrings as you.”

-----

Tikki might have lived through history when she was about to witness Marinette at the verge of making a new chapter.

-------

#ml #miraculous ladybug #my writing #tikki #tikki talks #writing #marinette dupain cheng #Mariette #ladybug #past!ladybug au #past ladybug holders #past miraculous holders #ml au #headcanon #ml headcanon #did yall see the insta accounts made for our sweet beannnnss #marinette is so cute

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ohreadermine · 6 years

Text

[log] the arc sword problem

Tau/Virlask - pre-relationship, pre-ketch. The two are still meandering around the cosmodrome Hive-hunting and having big awful crushes on each other.

The rhythm of battle still sings strong in Virlask’s mind, concentrated ether running through his body. His scorch cannon is hot and overheated, but if it breaks firing its last two rockets, Virlask knows it would have been worth it to see two of the five Hive Knights go down. He takes a quick glance around the cavern, assessing, and sees Tau fire the last round of his own rocket launcher into a Witch.

Virlask remembers the last steady three-bursts of pulse rifle ammunition, the staccato of an auto rifle—Tau hasn’t taken the time to reload any of his guns, running them dry one after another. The risk is nearly as great as the reward; he is a constant whirlwind of damage, right until he has no more bullets to fire

There’s a faint irritation Virlask feels, being tuned to the way Tau likes to fight. He knows Tau likes to keep a steady pace, doesn’t matter slow or fast, as long as he’s always in constant motion.

Tau draws back his arm, one last blow into the Witch’s abdomen to finish her off. There is a Knight towards his right. Tau’s hands are empty except for blood.

Virlask doesn’t think. He draws out one of his shock swords before Tau can unholster his gun.

“Tau. At left, sword ready.”

Tau’s comm gives an audio cue of acknowledgement. He puts his back towards the Knight, turning to Virlask, bloodied hand reaching out. Virlask tosses him the shock sword.

“Do you know how to use it?” Virlask asks, even before Tau catches it.

Tau whirls around and cleaves the sword across the Knight’s chest. The angle is odd, but the brute strength behind it causes the Knight to stagger back. Tau’s voice is harsh over Virlask’s channel; “Yes.”

It’s a sufficient answer, along with the proof. Virlask fires the second to last rocket from his scorch cannon. The Knight disintegrates, and Tau doesn’t break rhythm. They continue the fight.

About one more Knight and ten thralls later, it begins to dawn on Virlask that Tau actually does not know how to use a shock sword. Or possibly any other sword for that matter.

A shock sword is a difficult thing to damage. It has very little parts, and Virlask has spared no expense in maintaining his weapons. He receives the rare opportunity of witnessing someone use a blade to bludgeon several Hive to death.

It’s absurd. Almost painful to watch. Virlask doubts his sword will ever be in the same condition.

By the time the last thrall dies, Tau’s hands and armor are dripping with rotted Hive flesh. Calling it a butchering would have been an insult to proper butchers.

Virlask holsters his cannon, ignoring the burn of the barrel against his back, and looks down at Tau, incredulous. “You said you knew how to use a sword.”

Tau has the audacity to look insulted with Virlask’s sword in his hand. “I do.”

Virlask glances around. Most of the Hive bodies could be considered pulpy rather than cut or stabbed. He has seen other guardians with swords. It isn’t a matter of differing styles between their species. “That wasn’t swordwork.”

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Tau says, handing Virlask back the shock sword. He pauses when the hilt and blade rattles—something even he recognizes a good sword shouldn’t do. “... I broke it, didn’t I?”

Grim, Virlask holds the sword up, eyeing down the blade. Somehow Tau has bent it. The grip feels off as well, all twisted and unbalanced in his hand. Without looking at it, Virlask knows the hilt is cracked. Sparks tingle at his claws, arc core malfunctioning.

“You did,” Virlask confirms. The parts he can salvage into his remaining sword, which may be a small blessing in disguise. Keeping two swords in proper functioning condition has been difficult with his minimal supplies, and it occurs to him that Tau has never offered the means to do so, only because the guardian hadn’t known in the first place, not because he had wanted Virlask to be at a disadvantage.

To his surprise, the well of frustration Virlask has been holding back lessens. He’s still angry, of course. It’s still a waste of a good sword.

Tau ducks his head. “Shit. I’m sorry. It really did help me back there though.”

“I should have thrown you the scorch cannon instead,” Virlask says, trying not to be surprised by the apology. The remark earns him a quiet huff from Tau. A part of Virlask still wants to be furious, but he’s mostly in disbelief. “You have lived for hundreds of years. I thought you would be… proficient with a sword. At minimal.”

“Swords are old tech. Never had the need.”

“Swords don’t need reloading, or ammo,” Virlask says, daring to be critical.

Tau holds up a hand, fingers curling in. “I know. But why bother when fists don’t need reloading either.”

Virlask stares, uncomprehending. He switches to Human Universal to avoid the offensive terms he’d rather say in Eliksni. He can plead ignorance if it comes out insulting in human words. “Fists aren’t true weaponry. You do not have claws.”

“Oh,” Tau says, lowering his hand. “It’s a… titan joke.”

“A bad one,” Virlask concludes, though he is growing used to Tau’s unthinking arrogance that seems to run in most guardians. He also doesn’t mention that Tau should learn how to handle a sword. It isn’t his place, nor his concern. If an undead immortal has chosen to not learn any kind of swordsmanship then Virlask sees no benefit in correcting it. He sheaths the broken shock sword. “Will we continue forward?”

There is a pause while Tau consults with Theta in the privacy of their link. He gives a short nod, reloading all his guns; pulse and auto rifles, rocket launcher, all his motions as even and steady as the shots he takes. “We will. Need any telemetries?”

“There is only the last Ascendant Knight left to find, yes?” Virlask draws out his remaining shock sword, air thurming with arc energy when he activates it. “This is all I will need.”

Even with his helmet on, Tau looks doubtful. A hand to his hip conveys the true depth to his annoyance; Tau seems to be just as irritated. “I don’t need you trying to kill yourself and calling it duty-bound. Again.”

Virlask hisses. He had faltered once, at his lowest point weeks ago. Tau hauling him away from battle had been humiliating, and Virlask doesn’t like the reminder. He has been disgraced enough—crewless, bannerless, and exiled. Yet some old part of his still wants to prove his worth, even if it’s to an undead ghoul. “You underestimate my skill with a sword. I will show you.”

Tau tilts his head to one side in the way Virlask recognizes as taking a moment to translate unfamiliar Eliksni words. To Virlask’s dismay, he realizes he has used the formal honorifics of address, much like how he would have issued a challenge to the Archon Forge to prove his captaincy.

It doesn’t help at all when Tau replies in the worst possible way.

“Then I’ll be watching,” he says. The judgemental weight of his voice makes Virlask feel as if he should be looking up at Tau from the Forge’s pit.

Virlask’s grip over his sword tightens as he points the tip upwards in an ironic salute, though he thinks it might not as mocking as he wants it to be. It’s too late to take it back. Tau seems to not care in any case, turning away to lead them deeper into the Hive cavern. His apathy is both a relief and an annoyance.

Virlask curses, soft within his helmet, and follows.

The Ascendant Knight lies dead on the ground, Virlask’s shock sword through its chest. Virlask pulls it free with little effort, giving the blade a quick flick to shake off the fading tendrils of its essence, and watches as the corpse disappears entirely, back to the Ascendant realm.

Tau has never doubted their success. The Knight is as good as dead from the start, whether he brings it down himself or allows Virlask to do it. He just doesn’t expect a sword to do the job. After all, why bring a knife to a knife party when you can win faster with a gun?

Shooting is often more efficient, but even Tau admits there was something pretty with how Virlask wields his shock sword. Both Eshan and Rael have used swords in the past—all grace and dance and the kind of lightness in their steps that Tau knows he can’t manage. Eshan had tried once to teach him, the memory so far off Tau doesn’t remember why they stopped.

He still remembers how Eshan fought though, and it had been nothing like how Virlask fights. Eshan’s speed had been essential, quick to attack and quick to react. With Virlask, his speed with the blade shows differently, more of a constant driving force, each movement deliberate and patient. There’s a weight behind his arching swings—something Eshan hadn’t shown, only because it hadn’t been needed with their agile reflexes.

Virlask doesn’t dance, not like the Hunters do, but there’s still a rhythm to it, something Tau can follow for once.

Tau reloads his rifles, clips snapping into place in automatic habit. He walks up to Virlask, grabbing one of his secondary forearms. The incoming swing is thoroughly deserved, but Tau blocks it by meeting the blade his left arm guard. The arc shock blows out his shields, alerts flashing through his screen, but Virlask doesn’t follow up with a second hit, only stilling as Tau steps closer.

“Hey. Teach me how to use that shock sword,” Tau says, as if he hasn’t just been hit with one. His shields stop wailing as Theta fixes up the damage. He signals a silent thank you in return. Being a former striker grants him some tolerance to arc energy, but the shock still sends a nasty crackle through his entire body.

Virlask looks down at him, teeth clicking. He draws back, the secondary arm first and then the blade at Tau’s forearm. Tau allows Virlask the space, but not by much. Virlask has a weird habit of being slightly more agreeable within the range of a good punch. Then again, most people are.

“Why?” Virlask asks, wary.

“Why? Because you’re good. I haven’t seen swordwork like yours before,” Tau says and then quickly amends, “Swordwork that I didn’t need to put a stop to. Never got the chance to really watch how Eliksni fight with it.”

Virlask pauses. He sounds incredulous again. “You were actually watching.”

“You were keeping the Ascendant Knight to yourself,” Tau says, half-joking. At Virlask’s extended silence, he frowns. “Should I have helped? I didn’t want to mess you up.”

Virlask uses all four arms to shrug. He sheaths his sword, looking away to adjust the straps with his secondary hands while his primaries seem to be checking the damage at his arm guards. “I defeated the knight with no serious injuries. Your help was not needed.”

Tau blinks. The flurry of movement looks a whole lot like nervous fidgeting. Is Virlask embarrassed? Even while bragging? Tau glances at the arm guards. The spikes are blunted, covered in Hive gore. Pretty banged up. Tau shakes his head, putting out his hands as he does.

“Here. Give me your arm guards and I’ll have Theta repair them,” he says.

Virlask’s eyes narrow. It’s funny how Virlask seems to think that he can’t say no when he obviously wants to. Gives Tau all the smartass comments in the universe, but still manages to follow his lead anyway.

“I’m keeping that Hive cache and glimmer, but I still owe you for taking down the knight,” Tau says, exasperated. He motions for Theta to appear and gestures to the arm guards. “Theta, use the mod package I dismantle earlier. Those should work.”

Virlask hisses again, this time in short bursts. It takes a moment for Tau to realize he’s sputtering. He catches half formed words in Eliksni, all of them protests and then, interestingly, the word ‘inappropriate’ gets thrown into the mix. Tau double checks the translation through Theta and—yes, it’s the right definition.

“Why? Then call it a gift if you’re so uptight about it. And you’re going to teach me how to use a sword,” Tau says, brisk. Virlask has never liked offers so he might has well make them orders, if Virlask insists on being so indebted to him.

Virlask eyes are flickering brightly, almost like a flashing fire alarm. There’s no doubt about his embarrassment now. “Rewards are unnecessary. There must be some kind of basic Eliksni etiquette articles in your human databases—I am asking you to please read them.”

Tau points a finger at Virlask, a mixture of both anger and confusion. “I have read a quarter of the stuff Theta keeps finding on Eliksni culture. And ‘rewards’—?” The exact term Virlask uses is vaguely familiar. There are multiple synonyms in the databases, but the context makes it clear what exactly Virlask is referring to. Inappropriate makes more sense now. “—That honor offering stuff only counts if I’m Eliksni with a Prime Servitor or whatever.”

“Archon or Kell,” Virlask corrects stiffly. “Only if you are an Archon or Kell. And we no longer practice that ritual, not in decades.”

Tau makes an agreeing ‘there you have it’ motion with his hand. “Don’t make this complicated. In my culture, a gift is sometimes just an expression of thanks. Even if I am technically holding you captive.” And then another thought hits him—or maybe because of. Tau frowns at himself.

“Very ethnocentric of you to say,” Virlask fires back, but luckily he sounds mollified.

Tau has to look up the Eliksni meaning of ethnocentric through his HUD, so his response ends up lacking and childish. “I can accuse you of the same thing,” he says in Mandarin.

“Add high-minded and white-eyed as well,” Virlask retorts, also in Mandarin, which is how Tau finds out for the first time that Virlask can speak in other Earth languages other than Human Universal.

Stupid of Virlask to reveal that, but somehow Tau feels like he’s the one who has the disadvantage. He gets to be content with Theta sneaking in a full repair for Virlask’s arm guards though. All that arguing had been good for something.

Virlask inspects the repaired armor, still looking miffed about the whole thing, but at least he’s not complaining about it.

“Thanks,” he says in Human Universal. Nice and informal. None of that Eliksni honor reward bullshit. “I will teach you proper swordsmanship in return.”

Tau finds himself grinning from inside his helmet, pleased and excited. He forces himself to stop and tell Theta to transmat them out. And then he’s back to grinning again when Virlask shimmers away with a startled snarl and back into the ship.

White-eyed stupid, huh? Maybe Virlask had been on the mark with that after all.

#oc: virlask #OC: Tau #ohreadermine-fic #VIRLASK'S SWORD LORE

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fenfyre · 6 years

Text

A Different Breed - Part X

Part I Part IX

Lance’s armour feels heavy on his shoulders, the chest piece too tight around his ribs, making every breath slow and laboured. It doesn’t help that Keith seems particularly gloomy next to him, frowning at the map as he sets course for Tiye.

They haven’t talked since the briefing last night after which Lance excused himself to retire early, telling his team and himself that he’d need to prepare for the mission and get some rest, choosing to ignore the voice hissing and spitting in the back of his mind.

Some time after he’d settled down and found himself utterly unable to sleep there had been a timid knock against the door that Lance opted to ignore as well. No matter who it was, Keith or Hunk or Shiro or any of the others, he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone and after a while they went away.

Now, with Keith glowering at his screens, jaw twitching and hands gripping the controls tightly enough to translate the tension in his body to Red’s movements, Lance thinks it was probably his boyfriend wanting to speak to him after all.

The silence stretches between them, sticky and viscous, as they glide through the cold darkness of space, slowly creeping closer towards Nova Albena and its moons.

Lance doesn’t like the thought of them arriving there like this. With this cold, tense distance between them. They’re supposed to be a team, to trust each other and work together on this mission. So he takes a slow breath and reaches out, no matter how tightly his armour clenches around his chest.

“Hey man, you okay?”

Keith’s frown deepens as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, not taking his eyes off the screens. When no answer comes after a while Lance presses on, palms slowly growing sweaty inside his suit. Disgusting.

“You just seem a little tense, is all. And I’d very much like to arrive on the moon in one piece.”

Keith only huffs and rolls his eyes at that. The lion accelerates with a deep rumble.

“Yeah, don’t you worry about that”, he grumbles. “I’ll get you there and back again just fine.”

That makes Lance give a frustrated huff in turn.

“C’mon, you know me. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t know.” Keith shrugs before his eyes flick over to Lance, deep and dark, something undoubtedly aggressive lurking in their depths. “Do I?”

Lance doesn’t know what to say, how to react, but before he can figure it out Keith continues with a low growl.

“I could smell him on you.”

Lance feels his eyes grow wide as his heart skips a beat, an irrational fear squirming to life deep in his abdomen. He has no idea what Keith is talking about, only knows that none of it makes any sense.

“Smell…?”

“He touched you, didn’t he? Shiro?”

Lance’s lips work around nothing as his mind frantically tries to puzzle this together. He shakes his head.

“We … we talked. He put a hand on my shoulder, nothing else!”, he stutters, trying to understand how Keith can even know that. He sure didn’t smell it, nobody’s scent is that well.

A shudder runs through the lion as it accelerates even further, engines groaning.

“Hey … hey, can you … not...”

“I told him not to fucking touch you”, Keith spits.

Lance recoils like he’s been hit, the burning anger and aggression in Keith’s words sending trembling shocks of run, run down his spine and into his buckling legs. He hates it.

This isn’t him, he’s not a quivering mess just because someone yells at him. But that’s also not Keith. Keith has never been the jealous type. Whatever is between them has grown naturally, easily, without either of them pushing or forcing anything. No hard feelings and especially no being threatened by any of the others.

Keith has always accepted how close Lance is to Hunk, to Pidge. How he’s still crushing on Allura a tiny bit and strives for Shiro’s attention and approval now more than ever. It never seemed to bother him as long as he was the one in Lance’s bed at the end of the day.

Seeing him this worked up for no reason at all is strange and worries Lance under all the instincts running haywire. He wants to step away and give both of them some space, let Keith cool off and talk about this later. But inside Red there’s nowhere to step away to and during their mission there’s no later he could push the conversation to.

They have to resolve this issue now before they have to start their mission with this nonsense between them.

So Lance sighs and swallows his pride, ignores that none of this is his fault and he hasn’t done anything wrong as he reaches out yet again.

“Nothing happened”, he repeats, trying to sound soft and soothing despite his heavy heartbeat and the ringing in his ears urging him to bolt. “I didn’t think it was a big deal but if it’s that important to you I won’t let him touch me again, alright?”

Carefully stepping forward Lance leans down and lets his head sink to Keith’s shoulder, pushes down the flighty, fluttery fear as he nuzzles his boyfriend’s neck. A soothing gesture, a peace offering that worked like a charm every time Lance tried it on Keith before. He can only hope this won’t be the time it fails him.

“You’re the one I wanna be with...”

Moments tick by, Lance’s need to pull back and retreat growing with each passing second until there’s a dull whirring sound as the lion slows down. Keith’s body seems to relax when he flips a few switches on the dashboard.

“I...” Keith lets out a deep sigh that sounds broken, hurt, then wraps his arms around Lance’s waist, pulling him into his lap with surprising strength. “I know...”

The words are muffled as he hides his face in Lance’s chest, looking so small and ashamed Lance can’t do anything but hug him right back and nuzzle his hair.

“I’m sorry. I don’t … I have no idea what’s wrong with me...”

The tone, so lost and confused, is enough to make Lance’s heart ache for his boyfriend. All this time he spent wondering and he never even considered Keith might be asking himself the same questions, that he might notice the same strange new quirks and hate himself for his outbursts, his jealousy and aggression.

Lance swallows even though it’s hard around the clump in his throat.

“It’s okay”, he whispers back, a huff of breath escaping him as Keith’s arms squeeze tighter, pulling him so very close. “It’s okay, you’ve … you’ve been through a lot. With the … with the injury and all. I’d be more worried if everything went back to normal after that.” Lance doesn’t really feel the humour of the joke, his heart beating way too quickly, but at least Keith grumbles something unintelligible in response before pulling back to look at him.

It seems like he wants to say something but changes his mind, taking a breath and holding it, dark eyes boring into Lance’s, before he decides to go for it after all.

“I love you.”

The three simple words are enough to zap every lingering trace of panic from Lance’s body, quieting his trilling instincts and the warnings blaring in the back of his mind. Three words and calm washes over him, if only for a few seconds before the guilt rears its ugly head.

Keith never did anything but treat him with the respect and gentleness he deserves, making him feel safe and wanted and special, so special.

How dare Lance let that stupid panic take over his thoughts and presume the wildest things about his boyfriend? It’s his damn job to watch out for Keith and take care of him. Just because the last few weeks have been hard on them doesn’t mean he can pull back. It doesn’t mean he can make Keith deal with everything himself.

“I … that … probably wasn’t the right time”, Keith rasps when Lance doesn’t do anything but blush and stare at him for a long moment. “Sorry, I … I suck at this...”

“No!”, Lance calls, hands flying out to cup his boyfriend’s cheeks before he can hide in Lance’s chest again. He tips Keith’s face back carefully. “No, i-it’s not you, I just...”

Keith’s smile is soft and sad and Lance wants to kiss him until he’s laughing again. Not that either of them had a lot of reasons to laugh lately.

“You don’t have to say it back. I understand.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. He can’t. Not after abandoning Keith like he did. Maybe, when they finish their mission and return to the castle, they can sit down and have that conversation Hunk suggested long ago. Figure out what’s going on together instead of trying to deal with it on their own. Maybe after they did their job Lance can finally be the boyfriend Keith deserves. But until then everything he has to offer is a kiss, slow and sweet and apologetic. They part with a soft noise.

“Let’s go kick some ass?”, Lance offers instead and Keith’s resigned smile and tiny nod almost break his heart.

Part XI

[If you enjoy this story consider buying me a coffee or check out how to commission me!]

#Klance #Lance McClain #Lance #Keith Kogane #Keith #vld #horror #angst #fluff #fic: A Different Breed #fic: adb #vld horror big bang

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sileeeles · 6 years

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S9+ Review

Visually stunning. Amazing camera. Amazing screen. But as they say, looks aren't everything.

You will noticed that I mention and compare to HTC a lot, and this is because that its my only other point of reference. Its all I’ve had, Android wise, for the past 4 years.

So, mostly in order of things you encounter, I shall try to share my thoughts and feelings. First of all the size. Its fairly large. For people with dinky fingers/hands, I wouldn’t recommend it, I’d go with the regular S9. But the S9+ is perfect for me as I have larger hands and stubby fingers. I’ve always struggled on 4 inches or less especially with typing, I’ll come to that later. The main noticeable difference between the two is the camera setup. Beyond that the S9+ has a slightly larger battery capacity and 2 more gigabytes of ram over the S9.

One of the main things I thought would bug me, is the screen. The rounded corners. Which, overall, costs you 0.1 of an inch of screen real estate. And it hasn’t bothered me at all. Its rather cool and interesting. More interesting than that is the odd aspect ratio. 18:5.9. The .9 apparently accounts for the curvature of the glass at the sides. Which is another thing I thought would bug me. My wife didn’t get the S7 Edge because she thought the curves would be annoying, but these are more subtle and ... less curvy than those models. And it hasn't really been an issue. Sometimes (usually on badly optimized websites and a few pictures) the text spills over the edge no matter what you do, but turning the phone landscape usually makes everything visible. Apps and games all tend to scale themselves to whatever they work best at, but you can have them be full-screen if you wish. It warns you that some apps may no work or behave well when forced into full-screen, but thus far I’ve never had an issue.

The phone has a headphone socket (thank god) and has basically ripped off what HTC was doing with Boomsound. And more specifically, what they were doing with the HTC 10. You see, the Boomsound speakers that were part of the M7/M8/M9 were gone on the HTC 10. At the time (I had an M8), it was like a revelation. Why on earth wouldn't ALL smartphone manufacturers do this? Many of them, including Samsung, put the speaker on the back of the phone which was often muffled by your hand when you were holding it. HTC changed that, although rather than having the two speakers on the HTC 10, they opted to have one at the bottom of the phone, and used the earpiece speaker for the other. It worked, although something was lost in translation. It sounded good, and still a lot better than many of the other phones around at the time,but it never really had clear or consistent stereo or sound. Maybe because the down-firing speaker did the mids and lows, and the earpiece speaker did the highs, which were mostly just tinny and quiet. Rather than just the one speaker now, Samsung has seemingly copied HTC’s effort and used exactly the same system. However, it sounds infinitely better. The sound from it is very clear stereo, at times almost like it surrounds you. Partly, I assume, down to the Dolby Atmos/AKG tuning (which also includes some very nice and good sounding headphones in the box). As far as I know, HTC has not included Dolby in their phones since the Desire HD which also had SRS (and was my preferred sound setting).

We’ve also switched to USB C (also present on the S8/S8+) which is a much welcome improvement. In my experience it has been far more reliable and less damageable than Micro USB ever was, indeed after two years the USB C port on my HTC 10 is still going strong.

The physical buttons are something that will undoubtedly become a point of contention, largely because of the Bixby button. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not bothered by Bixbys existence. By and large, you can just disable it and ignore the fact that it was ever there. But the button was placed stupidly. Directly below the volume buttons, particularly on the S9+ where there is a tad more reaching for things, meant that I was pressing it. A lot. Which is a problem. Because initially I disabled Bixby all together. But I didn't really want the button to go to waste. So I searched, and as you would imagine I wasn’t the only one wanting to re-map it. And someone has helped with that, they created an incredibly useful app called bxActions. Which I mapped to the Camera. But of course the same thing kept happening. I pressed the button by accident, and the camera kept popping up. So I disabled it again, and had it play/pause audio when the screen was off. Yes, I do know that there are features like double press and long press, and perhaps it is worth using those instead. However, they are “pro” features you need to pay for.

The home button and hardware touch keys are gone. Replaced instead with Androids navigation bar (which is re-mapable by default so you can put the buttons the right way around). The home key is pressure sensitive (what they call 3D Touch which sounds more like an Apple thing). I’ve not really needed to use it, to be honest, or understand what its for. If the phone is locked, you can press the home key (if you can find it) instead of the power button, which takes you to the lock screen and whatever method of security you happen to have (iris of whatever). But I can bypass needing to do any of that by just using my fingerprint. Which is what I tend to do, beyond the “hey look at this, my phone unlocks when I look at it” novelty. I’m also incredibly aware with this phone that it has the potential to get screen burn in. This increases exponentially with things that are on the screen for longer periods of time than others. Such as the navigation bar. What would lower that risk, is having the position of the symbols move a pixel or so from where it was last time, each time the phone is active or each time the navigation bar is on screen.

The phone, like the models before it including the s6/s7 has a glass back. But in Samsung's case, there is a reason for it extending all the way back to those models as well. How big a reason that is, ultimately, is down the the individual user. And I imagine, most of the individual users would rather they didn't have something that was breakable. As if the front of the phone wasn't already enough of a risk for that. The reason for it is Wireless charging. If you’re like me, nothing will ever beat the cable, and wireless charging is fiddly at best. You need to get it in the right spot, and from what I’ve seen, it was never really that fast. Certainly not as fast as the fast charger.

Using the phone is, at this point, pretty intuitive. If you’ve used Android for long enough, you know where everything is and how everything works. Software wise, there is not much that you can moan about. There is, overall, less bloatware and what there is, most of it can be uninstalled. Samsung wise, their layout of things is a little ... oddly arranged but you get used to it. At this point its pretty close to the way HTC was laying things out.

One thing that does bug me though, is that there is a lot of content they will charge you for. Such as themes. HTC never had such a system, indeed you could create and customize pretty much each area that you wanted. Wallpaper, lock-screen, app background, icons, ringtones, even the background of sms messages. Whilst Samsung themes will do this, there is no option to create each one individually yourself, and there is no way (at least that I’ve found) where you can apply individual items from certain themes. For instance if I only want the icons, I can’t do that. I need to install the whole theme and the re apply my wallpaper and ringtone afterwards etc. Another thing is the warning you get when you turn the volume up so far. I don't need it every time, yes I know its not sensible, its never for very long, go away! Its as bad as the Netflix "Are you still watching?" Yes. And my controller turned off two episodes ago and is over the other side of the room! Go away!

One thing I have been using that I would normally have ignored, largely because it was already there and I wanted to explore, is Samsung Health (which was previously just called S Health). It will allow you to track a variety of things, including steps every day, excersize, heart rate and stress (there are sensors in the phone that include this, which is pretty normal for Samsung). It even allows you to track sleep, and even has the ability to keep track of blood sugar levels and such for diabetics.

A few of the packaged defaults I have changed. For instance the keyboard. There is nothing wrong, or that I found wrong, with the default Samsung keyboard. I am just far to used to Swiftkey, and my defaults within that, so I installed that. It has a one handed mode just like the Samsung default, so it makes it easier to type with one hand. Also the music player I have used, and will probably always use on Android is PowerAmp. Also use Chrome as well.

The camera is probably the most interesting thing about the phone at this point. It was the most heavily marketed aspect of it (because, ultimately, I suspect there isn't much different from the S8+). Whilst everything thats included in it is, at this point, nothing new ... well, except the variable F-stop, maybe, its the way it has been implemented that is cool. More so on the S9+ with the extra telephoto lens. I was an avid user of the slow motion on the HTC 10 (and the M8 I had before it) and for the S9/S9+ to have that in a supercharged way, is very fun for me, although they aren’t the first to include 960FPS. That honour goes to the Sony Xperia XZ I believe.

The always on display is cool, although I’ve found that, honestly, id rather have it off than have it on, and if I have it on, the design I’d choose is the edge one. Thankfully the risk of burn in from this is minimal, as it changes position and never stays in one place too long.

Beyond the phone, some of the extras that I have found to be useful are the adapters included in the box. Specifically the Micro USB to USB C adapter. Because, more than once I’ve forgotten my charger, and nowhere (at least nowhere cheap) seems to have USB C cables for sale. They’re all bloody Micro USB. This adapter means that I needn’t worry if I forget my charger again. I just go into poundland and buy a cable. You also get the standard OTG adapter in the box. Samsung's intended purpose for this, I believe, is for you to connect your old phone to it and copy over your content. But it has many more uses beyond that including game controllers, even charging up other devices and connecting USB sticks to your phone.

#samsung #galaxy #s9 #s9+#s9 plus #htc #htc10 #boomsound #dolby #atmos #bixby #bxactions #usbc #android #electronic

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missjugheadjones · 7 years

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Unspoken Words 2

Word Count: 2170

A/N: lol heres the 2nd part to Unspoken words, enjoy! I suggest the song mentioned in here, its one of my favs. Also sorry for not posting as much, things are very crazy atm but im getting back to it. Much love!

MasterList

Jugheads POV-

"Betty?" I said over the phone, hearing my sniffling girlfriend on the other end. "Yeah, I'm here, come outside." She sniffled again and I listened as she told me that she couldn't, her mom locked her inside the house for the night and no one was allowed in nor out.

"So I can't come inside to see you?" I asked, and I listened as she told me I couldn't. My heart sank a little bit, not because I couldn't go in and see her, but because I had just left Y/N heartbroken and crying alone in her house for this.

"Yeah, no I get it. I'll just see you tomorrow." I said, and hung up the phone, throwing it on the seat next to me. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and sighed, I was truly and idiot today. I kicked myself, closing my eyes trying to stop myself from crying, but behind my shut eyes images of Y/N played like a movie. Her smiling, the way her eyes light up anytime she tells an awful pun and everyone groans, the sound of her laugh when she shoots sarcastic comments my way.

I replayed memories of our time at Pops, late nights in the quiet diner, the only sounds that are audible are of the neon lights buzz, Pops whistling from back into the kitchen, and the tapping of keys and scratches of lead on paper. While I wrote she drew, or also wrote, but she preferred the look of her scribbled words on paper, the smears of black on her hands as evidence of a nights work. A tattered notebook with crumbled pages, a worn and old look, inside the ins and outs of her mind were translated into pictures and poems, proof that there was a beautiful mind behind her beautiful eyes. She thought the digital route to her genius felt cheap, she liked the messy, tangible work that she could carry around with her, and I always admired her for it.

Memories of the Twilight-Drive In came next, sitting next to her out in the cold air. We'd sit in the back of my dads truck, blankets and pillows sprawled across the bed of the truck, popcorn and candy pieces littered throughout from our many mini food fights we'd randomly break out in. If it was especially cold, she'd sit closer to me, leaning her head on my shoulder and I'd pull one of the many blankets over her. This was when she was most peaceful, sometimes I would purposely tune out the movie and try my best to listen in on her slow and quiet breaths, finding comfort in the serenity of it. I'd look down at her, admiring how her soft features would glow in the dim light of the movie projection and the night sky. She really was beautiful, and I'm sure that these were the nights where it really stood out to me.

Not only was she beautiful physically, but mentally as well. She had been through so much, endured so much bullshit yet she still had a soft and warm personality that would draw people in. She was energetic, magnetic, electric. Every word she spoke you could hear the emotion behind it, even if it was a useless sentence that had no meaning at all. She was a human piece of art really, she was all of the art in the world placed into a breathing, living person. Poetic and colourful, abstract but simple, she is everything that I felt was beautiful in the world.

Then came the heartbreak, the memory I wanted so badly to forget about, to ignore, but it was now stuck in my brain. I led her on, didn't I? And not only that, but I left her crying and alone after. The tears started to fall, and I couldn't help but feel the burn of self hatred rise up from my stomach to my chest. She was broken, on the floor with tears falling from her beautiful (y/e/c) eyes, and it was all my fault because I decided to do something stupid. I decided to almost let my true feelings slip, I should have told her, I should have stayed.

Y/N is a smart girl, she knows how to put pieces together, and she's quite good with words and if she knows a person well enough, like she knows me, she can guess what is about to come out of their mouth. She knew what I was going to say, I could see the gleam in her eye, the one that time and time again tells me that she feels the same. I brought her up and I let her crash... I am the worst person ever. It would take a miracle for her to forgive me, hell it would take a miracle for me to forgive myself.

I straightened up and wiped the tears off my face, crying about Y/N in front of Bettys house felt wrong in some sort of sense. Thinking these thoughts about Y/N in front of Bettys house felt wrong, I just need to get away from Betty. I started up my car and ran my hand through my beanie-less hair, pulling away from the familiar home, looking back slightly to see another lone illuminated window, Bettys. And just like with Y/N, I drove away. I was gone.

Your POV-

"You look cute with that hat on." Jughead said, smiling towards me. I looked up from my notebook and blushed, rolling my eyes and smiling.

"Not as cute as you." I say, tapping my pencil on the paper. Jughead chuckles, shaking his head.

"And that's where your wrong, princess." My chest warms up at the use of his nickname for me. At one point it was used to tease me, a nickname given to me by my best friend who said I acted like a princess most of the time. Now that we are together though, its turned into something more, I'm not just any princess, I'm his, and he is my prince, and I wear his crown to show that I'm his and he is mine.

"Last time I checked, I'm never wrong, thank you though." I snap back sarcastically, beaming at him as he closes his laptop half way and looks admiringly my way.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, weren't you wrong today?" he asks, and I fake surprise.

"Was I? I don't recall."

"Yes, I'm pretty sure you were. We were listening to music in the car ride home from school and I was listening to 'Atlanta' and you tried to guess who it was by." he says, and I sink a little in my seat, trying my best to keep up my poker face.

"None of this is ringing a bell, Beanie. I think it was just all in your imagination." I reply, shrugging and leaning back in my seat.

"No, I still don't think so. You know the song Atlanta right, who is it by then?" he asks, smirking my way and I stutter, trying my best to think of the artist he had told me earlier.

"Well, I-uh... twenty one pilots?" I guessed, and he threw his head back in laughter.

"No, Stone Temple Pilots. Close though, but not really." he says once his laughter dies down a bit, and I roll my eyes.

"Whatever, same difference." I shoot back, and he shakes his head.

"Not even close." he says, and I shrug.

"I'll get it at some point." I say confidently, and he nods.

"I'm sure you will." he opens his laptop all the way again and starts to type, and I watch as his eyes dance across the screen and listen to the sound of keys being hit. He looks so happy, you can see it in his eyes that this is when he is most peaceful. Sometimes I stare at him, watching as he types away on his laptop, and I swear I can see the gears turning behind his loving eyes. I admire how the neon lights of the diner illuminates his face, creating an orange-y red glow that accentuates the features of his face. Sometimes I swear this is where I notice how handsome he really is, right here in this booth when he's happy and content and busy.

I look down at my notebook, the words and doodles scribbled across the page, the smear marks of the lead being dragged across the page from my hand. I love it when a new, untouched white page in my notebook becomes a light grey, decorated with my thoughts. I stare at tonights masterpiece, just some random writing about Jughead that I had thought up of, and a doodle of a beanie that looks like a crown. As I look up from my notebook, I see he is looking at me.

"Is there something on my face?" I asked, and he shakes his head.

"No, nothing out of the normal. Just the usual cuteness." he says, and I laugh.

"The cheese is strong with you, isn't it?" I asked, and he laughs as well.

"Hey, maybe I like being cliché, did you ever think of that?" he asks, closing his laptop and placing it in his bag.

"Yes, I have. Its not a hard thing to pick up on, especially since you do it so often." I reply, closing my notebook and placing it in my small backpack I use instead of a purse. I slide out of the booth seat and stand up, stretching slightly as Jughead stands up as well. I start to make my way to the door until a hand grabs my wrist and turns me around, facing Jughead. He smiles down at me and I smile up at him.

"Have I ever told you how happy I am that I finally fixed my mistake?" he asks, which is an odd question, but those are never few and far between with Juggie.

"What mistake?" I asked quietly, and he shrugs slightly.

"I had bad judgement, I made a haste decision that ended up being the wrong one, and fixing it was probably the best thing that has ever happened to me." he tried to explain, yet he was still being so vague.

"What was your wrong decision?" I asked, and he opened his mouth to say something, but a banging noise drowned whatever he said out.

"Now do you understand?" he questioned, and I shook my head.

"No, I didn't catch what you said, the noise was too loud." I explained, and he looked down at me confused.

"What noise?" he asked.

"The loud banging noise." I said, shocked he hadn't heard it too.

"I think you're lo-" there it goes again, the noise. I can't hear the second part of his sentence, and now i'm even more confused than before.

"Did you hear it just then?" I asked, sure he had to have heard it.

"No, are you feeling okay?" he asks me, and I take a seat back in the booth, I feel a little dizzy.

"No, not really, I think I just need to-"

"Wake up?" he suggests, and I look at him confused.

"Wake up?" I asked, and he nods his head.

"You should probably wake up, go see what the noise was." he says, and I shake my head.

"But I'm not asle-" the noise is louder this time, more urgent sounding, like someone is banging on a door.

"Are you going to get that?" Jughead asks, and I shake my head.

"Get what?" I ask, and he opens his mouth to respond, but before he can I cut him off. "You know what, it doesn't matter, just tell me what your wrong decision was." I say, and he shrugs.

"I think you need to wake up." he says, sitting in the seat of the booth across from me.

"But-"

"I can't tell you what you want to know. But I'm sure whatever is making that noise can." he says, and I shake my head.

"The only one who can tell me left. He ran out, back to the one who he belongs with." I say, and Jughead shrugs.

"Have a little faith, you still have faith in him right?" he asks, and I slowly nod.

"I have no choice but to. When you're in love with someone, faith in them kind of comes naturally." I say, feeling quite tired. I yawn, and the diner starts to get blurry, and darker. I blink and things around me are now completely dark, and I'm laying down. I sit up slowly, raising my hand to my head and I feel the beanie on me. It was a dream. Of course it was a dream.

Knock! Knock!

Who the hell is here right now? I look at my phone and see its 1:27am, its a little early for visitors, who in their right mind wants to talk to me now?

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Unspoken Words Tags:

@kelly27crickett

#jughead jones #jughead x reader #jughead jones x reader #jughead x betty #cw riverdale #jughead angst #jughead fluff #jughead fanfiction #fanfiction #missjugheadjones

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obsidianonslaught · 7 years

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E.X.O.D.U.S.

Time had not been kind to him, eating his heart out, leaving dust in his hair. He’d stand at the cliffs rising up from the Forest and breathe in the frigid mountain air, and looking at a changing world, golden leaves, a blackened sky, empty lines on his fingers that bled late at night, with his teeth pressed together and his body so stiff he might shatter. Expecting the wind to push him over the edge, to the river bends, the shadows that snuck up in hoards like an army and pulled at small spaces of tree bark and stone. And it was quiet--thrillingly quiet--with his pulse racing in his wrists and in his throat, a great plume of patience and fire, waiting for the sun to show and the hour to turn, so that he could stare the horizon face-to-face and curse his own sins of the past.

He stood motionless there, for hours to come, statuesque save for stray pieces of hair that swept about, dark in color, in a rising, icy wind. His face solemn, and starved for peace. Only the Lord Gale stayed by his side, overlooking the hills and the stars settled up in the sky, and he too was still, and silhouetted black against the inky clouds and alpine peaks. Watching everything fade away, while winter crept closer, just as expected, and choking to death the faint of heart.

That morning, the light fell too late on their brows and Burton narrowed his eyes, deep and grey, as if to scout out something unsettling, stepped back from the border. Silent footsteps, a lowered head, he descended the stretch of the uneven slopes into the open arms of the Forest, familiar and sheltering and scented of intimacy and earth. The dragon followed, their shadows aligned, taking strange shapes across the leaf litter, and tinted curious shades of rust and gold.

‘Shouldn’t you sleep, Jed?’ said Lollygag across their connection. He leaned over his human so that their noses nearly touched, and Burton stopped before the burly, knotted branches of two very old trees on the path.

‘I can’t,’ he blinked, his lids heavy, and lips dry. For he’d been avoiding the nightmares that shook him so terribly that he would thrash and scream and wake with cold sweat on his brow. Filled with dark, forsaken things, a sucking void, the visage of some giant serpent-creature that sought to poison his mind with demands and lies and a toxin that stopped his lungs from working. So that he suffocated slowly, all alone, and torn by fear and failure with blood crusted over his throat and collarbone. His own blood, spilled and wasted, and with it what was left of his dignity.

Sometimes the nightmare-creature would curl its jowls about his ankles and bite him there, beat him to his knees with wire-frame wings, drag him about through a desolate grave of rotting nails and broken bones, til he weakened with pain and alarm and he could no longer struggle against the tide of its scales. Then it would toss him away, into a bottomless pit, where he fell in a loop and choked on his own bile and the smell of the venom spreading in his veins and weighing him down... down... and forced to remember everything he’d done wrong while he died and forgot his own name.

Lollygag would wake him from these visions and take him out into the Forest where he could see the stars and make up songs to fill the empty space in his chest. But the dreams came more frequently now, so that he avoided sleep and kept himself busy, translating different texts at his apartment desk well past midnight and crying to keep his eyes from closing shut. Then when he nodded off, the sequences would start again, and he’d race over the shadow-spun fields with the monster drooling at the back of his neck and reaching for him, and when it tripped him with its tail he saw their faces were the same in the reflection of its blood-coated armor.

He’d gone deep into the middle of the mountain chains to ask Omega what it meant, but the god had only laughed at him, called him foolish, said he was infected with a kind of fear that only he could overcome.

“This isn’t one of your tricks, is it?” he frowned as the Seismos shifted zir massive legs somewhere near the center of the cavern. All dimly lit by the virus-green glow of zir eyes.

“You dare accuse me?“ Omega had dipped zir jaw down toward him and Lollygag, and shook with a thunderous sneer. “I thought you wiser than that, Jed.”

“Just suspicious,” said Burton, bluntly, carefully, the muscles in his shoulders tense. “I have asked you not to mess with my head.”

The Seismos scraped at the walls with zir tail, leaving faint marks like streaks of snow in the stone. “And I have since honored your request,” ze said. And then laughed at him again, shaking the roof of the caverns so fiercely that he thought for a moment the whole mountain would crumble. But it never did--the great god would study him carefully from the summer-leaf patterns of zir unblinking eyes, methodical, and said at last, “You are afraid, but you are not alone. Remember that.”

So with those words he left the Seismosaurus and returned outside to stare into the night sky, Lollygag still at his side and humming gently at him, very soft, very troubled, for the air was cold and thin, and the wind as violent as ever. And Burton had not rested for such a long, long time--time lost to the creature that would come in the night and kill him in his dreams.

‘It’ll be alright, Lolly,‘ he leaned his head against the Gale’s snout.

Lollygag whimpered in reply, his scanners busily surveying the area, all the dips in the dark where they could not see, the hidden secrets of a slumbering forest... ‘You need to sleep,’ he tipped his giant, amber wings to shelter them both from the wind. It bellowed roughly from the chasms below and rushed north, sudden and swift, and unrivaled in colorless power. ‘You can’t continue on like this.’

‘I know.’ But he couldn’t lie down, couldn’t rest, couldn’t stand to see the nightmare-beast or have to die again and bleed out all alone in a tunnel of pain. When the sun rose, he climbed slowly into the Lord Gale’s cockpit and they made their way down into the heart of the Forest, where the trees were dropping their leaves and preparing for the grip of winter. Beneath the shadow of Omega’s mountains, they wound through makeshift paths while the canopy glittered with withering gold.

Lollygag told him again to sleep, but Burton could not, watching the world die around him, the cold cache the ground and the clouds. When the mountain slopes and the valley below and the roads towards Blue City would be stiffened with blankets of thick, scentless ice. When the wind cursed him and he shivered at the thought of the nightmare-creature with his face and venomous spit that sent him into euthanasia from which he’d never wake again. The leaves danced around them like freshly-fallen snow.

On, the Gale walked for many more miles, a steady maze of tangled branches above him trying to catch the sun. Over roots and streams and sloping earth. Over dead trees left from last year’s freeze. And the hymn of rushing wind as it swelled and conquered.

They came to a clearing by a slow, steady brook and Lolly sat among the stones. The sound of the water rippling through cracks in the ice just beyond the reach of his claws and making its way downhill, where it would feed into the sea so far, far away, mixed with earth and salt as it had for centuries. There was a soft ping on the radar, that faded as quickly as it came, and Burton stared at the screens in such a state of delirium that could make no sense of the direction. Unwillingly, fighting the whole way, he fell into a brackish sleep while the Gale scanned the Forest, but there was nothing.

In his sleep, he cried out and fled from the creature with claws and wings and saw it was joined at his own two feet--his shadow, growing and consuming him, pulling him down by the ankles as he died with poison in his blood and mind. And this time the shadow spoke--in his voice, coiled up around his throat and ear, “I found...” Over and over again, never able to complete the sentence. Flickering volume, sometimes muted, sometimes moaning dreadfully, half-choked with laughter.

He could never form words in these dreams, only scream and shriek, but never in any language. It was Lolly’s pleading that brought him back to consciousness and he bolted forward in his seat, the harness snagging both shoulders. He panted and wiped the tears and sweat from his face while the Gale whined softly.

‘I’m fine,’ he insisted, but Lollygag knew better, and continued to croon at him.

In the distance, something spoke over the rough calls of water and wind, inaudible at first. Then steadily louder, thunder coming closer, bringing spells of the old world into the even older Forest.

Lollygag stood up and crept back into cover, away from the small, silver stream, and fell silent. Again, the same wraith-sound from beyond the trees, neither human, nor animal, and still so faint that it lacked any meaning.

Then it rose once more:

‘I... found-’

And vanished abruptly back into nothingness.

Burton shuddered and took the controls; the same sudden ping went off on the radar. But nothing stirred in the rust-gold shadows--only the whisper of dead leaves on the wind.

Anxious, the Gale began to recalibrate the settings, strengthening sensors, increasing the effective range. Burton’s breaths were scattered and uneasy. Answered only by the same, crackling words:

‘I... found-’

It was a voice, a frequency, that neither he nor Lollygag could recognize, warped with excitement. And a very frail and crooked kind of joy.

‘... I found-’

Again, through the wind-steered air like an enemy current, filling his lungs, his ears, his tired, troubled mind. The blip on the radar reappeared, then changed course all of a sudden and doubled in speed, barreling in their direction from somewhere in the valleys below. The Gale snarled and bristled, turning towards the signal with both arms raised and ready to strike the first blow.

But a bolt of hot, burning energy shot out from beneath the branches, and struck him in the chest, stunning him in place; a shockwave of static and his startled screams locked the cockpit controls. Then something followed the loose string of fire, something large and black that rocketed around in the air, silent, sudden movements, jerking its head back and forth, pumping down with a pair of great wire-like wings....

‘I found you--!’

It circled them, making sharp, sporadic turns, then stopped inches from the cockpit, staring down straight through the glass, the jaws parted in a labored, ecstatic smile, showing off its forward, serpent-fangs.

Burton took the throttles in his shaking hands and tried to ease them forward, and Lollygag screeched, then pitched to the side. Dazed, every joint aching with an overdose of electrical energy, difficult to find his footing, and find the lines of code to lift his claws together and arm his weapon systems. He did so suddenly, as the big, black creature lunged at them and laughed. An iron, rasping laugh, tearing at the trees with its claws and great, dark shadow.

It was twice Lolly’s length from snout to tail at least, and formed entirely of metal--a Zoid, a model Burton had never seen before, nor read of in any military database. It was heavily armored, but moved swiftly and suddenly, and hung in the autumn air like a great, polished statue, staring directly at them with savage green eyes. There was no pilot in its cockpit.

‘Who are you? What do you want?’ His thoughts and the Gale’s were blended together. It could hear them, for it answered not on the channel, but in Burton’s mind, drowning out the surrounding sounds, of rotting leaf litter and tree limbs in the breeze.

‘I am the System. I am E.X.O.D.U.S. I am the Dekalt Dragon.’ It raised its golden-crowned head and matching wings, drawing closer, closer, catching shafts of cold sunlight in its teeth. On its polished armor, Burton saw his own panicked reflection, and it seemed to rile at that, exuberant, expectant, hunching its head between raised shoulders and gnashing its finely formed jaws.

‘... I am going to kill you.’

And it dove at them again, lightning-quick, with a deafening roar and lashing of its wings and talons, black and gold and blood-colored and blurred. Lollygag was fast enough to avoid it, counter back as he took to the air and aimed a blow with the Magnesser Spear--but by then, the Dekalt was hovering above the tree-line and studying them again. A flickering golden, flame erupting from between its jaws. It was laughing, laughing down at them, now touching its foreclaws together, both plated shoulders hunched.

Burton shuddered quietly, recoiling to the bitter taste of blood and iron in his mouth.

Both dragons trembled, and then shot for the sun, weeping terribly and ripping at each other with their splayed talons. The wind took them southward towards the snow-capped mountain chains, where they fought from summit to summit, leaving footprints over the snow, where no one would ever find them. Beating light, beating wings, their voices raised and angry and echoing for miles beyond, becoming rain. They thundered, downslope, and the Gale pinned the Dekalt and the Dekalt struck the Gale and found its footing on the ridgeline, and then they stood stiffly, facing each other in a stalemate, and seething in collective rage.

‘Can you Project over it, Lolly?’ Burton tried not to dwell on the rusted taste between his teeth.

The Gale shook himself from side to side, ‘No... It’s- different. Not like the Chimera units, not like the Wild Zoids from the Forest. Other channels, other frequencies, foreign code...’

Exodus interrupted them both, bellowing over ice and snow, ‘You would run from me in the Dream, Jed... Precious child. Powerless child!’ Gripping at the frozen earth underneath. ‘You are tired, aren’t you? Sleep- Sleep where you can run from me, and run from your pain and your suffering- and you shall never wake again. I’ll rid the world of you; I’ll bury you-’

Lollygag cried out in retort and lunged; his jaws closed around the Dekalt’s forearm, trying to cleave metal with metal. They tore into each other, fangs, flames, ferocity, the sheer force of their blows as they slashed at the spaces between their pitch-black armor. Then broke off again into the sky, silhouetted by light and the cold grip of violence as it feeds.

And Burton’s mind was the wreckage of a whirlpool, battered by Exodus’ heavy blows and a lasting lack of sleep, shaken, drifting off and then back. Back to where? Back again, back again... Completely sporadic. Unable now to distinguish between his dreams and his wakened state, for the Dekalt was always there, sneering at him, reaching to trap him between the ravines of many bladed fangs. Lolly would have to Evolt, he thought, if they were to survive--and the Gale seemed to sense this.

He changed in a heartbeat, a flashing light, a curdling scream. He struck the Dekalt at the flank and sent it reeling back into the ice. There was a shower of light and bullets, the sound of metal against the surface of snow, and the two dragons chased their shadows round the summits, trying to catch the other in their jaws. They snapped and screamed, and met each other over the peaks, raking their throats with great, golden talons. The wind everywhere around them.

Then they flew to the west, riding the currents, diving between mountain tops and the subtle glare of the sun. Burton bit his lip and trembled, pained and tired--they could not keep this form for long, he was too weak, he needed sleep and darkness and the infinite void of undisturbed silence.

But the dragons battled with the rage and the might of explosive old stars, scattering, reforming, bursts of sudden light and fire as they tried to reach the other’s core. To extinguish. To kill.

Exodus shivered and slowed for a moment, staying at a distance. Studying them, the way children study shapes and colors and names. And then everything was still and dark, and their shadows lengthened on their claws and faces. For a long while, they stared across an empty space, distances marked by withered remains of autumn and rain.

It was a time of dying. They descend into the dirt and stared across the Forest floor, different pairs of eyes burning softly. ‘Go back to where you came from,’ Lollygag’s transmissions were soft but stern, a warning. ‘Leave this place. Leave us alone.’

The Dekalt shook its crowned-jewel head, the serpent fangs barred at them hideously. ‘You know who sent me, don’t you?’

Lollygag could only bow his head down--he would not say the name.

‘You... you and your human have upset the Scale; you have forgotten your place, the sense of your existence. So you must both be punished.’ Exodus hissed, and hunched it shoulders, crouching at them. ‘I was made to hunt, I was Assembled to destroy--that is my purpose, that is my place. I have come to claim you, your lives, your names, your blood and dream-world spaces.'

'How can you talk of taking so much? As if it was owed to you? As if you own it?’

‘That’s what power is, Gale.’

They stood apart in the dirt. Dirty, dented creatures. Calling back and forth, two dragons with their gleaming scales and eyes and coiling tails and mud and rotting leaves and melting ice sticking to their flanks where they had thrown each other on the surface. The light around them died slowly.

‘Your power,’ said Lollygag. ‘But not my power.’ His head was low still, like a budding branch bent over, like a cresting wave over emerald ocean.

A sneer. ‘What is your power, then?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Lollygag, in his very honest way. ‘I am learning still, I think.’

The Forest spoke steadily to them, but Exodus did not hear. In a whirl of teeth and anger, it lunged forward, and the two Zoids were tangled in their shadows again while the trees moaned and shuddered and leaned away. Lollygag broke from the mess of lashing claws, his wings raised, rising. They steered away from each other again and went racing in between the trees. A steady breeze bellowed across the blue and black horizon.

Burton still could not tell the difference between his dreams while he was rattled and shaken and dragged in and out of states of sleep. Seconds apart, everything a crooked blur. The mountains were below and then beside them, and he knew that somehow he was pulling on the controls and that Lollygag had chased the Dekalt and then the Dekalt had chased them up the steep, unyielding slopes. They went quickly, rushing on their armored wings, while the land around them held its breath...

And then they were struck out of the sky, screaming, soundless; they fell like a comet, and lost consciousness. It was no use, they thought, for they had fought and fought, and now they could not fight. They drowned, reaching out for each other, in blindness and fear and the silent chokehold of pain that had pulled them both into some starless place. There they flailed a while longer, their eyes open and unseeing, and covered at every corner with darkness. Bodies unbound, full of flickering movements, fading. At last their voices bled through, following one another, scared and shrill. They were lost. The blackness was completely boundless.

Burton shuddered and started rapidly to die, tears on his face, scars in his mind, great dark scars, swords and caverns, and dried clots of blood. He could feel the Gale with him, the both of them helpless, both tumbling, plummeting, into a terrible, terrible, forbidden silence. The void opened, stared, surrounding them whole and ready to devour. They wept as the nothingness closed in around them.

But the shadows were blown into smoke by a great, heavy voice, of death and of power. They were no longer falling. The void no longer pressed with the weight of an ocean on their chests.

“Rise.” Omega snarled into them. From the earth. From darkness.

‘How..?’ Burton thought, and Lolly thought, their pain and emptiness interconnected, extensive together. ‘I cannot-’

"You will.”

They saw the world again. The god had broken through from the heart of the mountain, zir head impossibly high in the sky, shrouded in the dark. Staring down, zir tail was coiled carefully around the Gale, holding onto dear life.

Exodus tumbled, shrieked, recoiled, circled back and around and could not escape Omega’s giant, pressing shadow. Once or twice it jolted towards zem, only to reel back again, always being watched, always knowing there was nothing to be done.

“Do not test me.” Omega thundered over everything, with the might of a toppling empire. And the Dekalt, head hunched, overpowered, retreated into the lengthening spell of cold and forest secrets.

The Seismosaurus spread zir toes into the soil and watched. Ze craned zir neck and looked beyond to the where the continent collided into space and where Exodus had fled. “This is what it’s like,” ze said, “to again see starlight on the Surface.” Ze released Lollygag, who had reverted to his usual state, and let him take wing above the treeline.

Burton cursed under his breath using the language he’d spoken in the place he was born and sank down against the dashboard. Death was not so terrible, yet he had been afraid, he was still in so much pain. It was now that he could see the forest floor was cleaved with deep and terrible scars, where the dragons had fought, and where bits of mountain had come shattering down. Still the wind went whispering in its indifferent way, healing words, patient words, words formed in darkness.

He could not see very well; he thought of sleep and whispered his thanks while trying to make out the pattern. There was something different about the way it was woven. Omega’s face was longer and sharper and ringed by wisps of smoke and fire, but he could not make sense of it right now.

The stars stopped for no one as they skidded in silence across a sloping sky. Bloodied bands and blemishes lay below them in the trees.

There will be more blood, and more death, Burton thought, having been carried back from that place, the pain of it still in his eyes. Darkness seeping from every wound, darkness repairing itself. The sounds of the Forest growing deeper. The Dekalt would come for him again--but he would be ready then. He and his dragon, who hummed and drifted on the wind like a leaf. He must rest now, he must dream.

He said softly, “Surely Alpha will know now of your survival. Your location.”

“Good,” said the god. “I have grown tired of waiting.” For this was a time of great change.

#burton's logbook #e.x.o.d.u.s.#Re:Connected

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