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screampied · 3 months

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{nsfw warning}

okay but like…. could you would you write teacher x student nanami where you would keep teasing him and obviously, because he has a lot of self control he wouldn’t break, he’d gently push off your teasing and wandering hand when he’s trying to explain to you a question………… but then he burns for you secretly he wants you so bad and he can’t have you and then one day you come to class with a slutty and revealing outfit and that’s just the last straw for him…………… he def gives you want you want then 🌚

okay but real talk if you’re not comfortable with writing that like for example just professor x student that would also be completely fine i just want you to know i love love love ur writing sm <3 one of my favorite writers fr i check your blog everyday 🫶 thank you for feeding us with content mama

❤︎ ໋𓈒 having professor nanami teach you another method

warnings. fem! reader, reader's in university, dumbification, spanks, sir kink, brat reader, dirty talk, creampie. mdni.

an. thank u thank u eee !! 💟

“you can’t keep coming in here like this and expect me not to say anything,” your professor murmurs, and he’s leaning over you. you’re doing a failing attempt to copy some notes he had displayed for you on the board. he smelled so good, such a loud rousing scent that never failed to make you dizzy. he always does that thing where when he points towards a certain spot towards your paper, his arm would brush up against you. or—you’d accidentally do the same, except you always made it more obvious.

“like … what?” you’d raise your eyebrows, glancing up at nanami and he had the more stern yet relaxed look. it took everything in him to not let his eyes roam, your outfit.

he clicks his tongue in sheer annoyance, as always you were testing his patience. he told you to stay after because you weren’t exactly getting good marks. “nevermind,” he grumbles, and your eyes linger towards his neat matching black tie. “as i was saying before, for this particular method you have to—”

nanami desists with his words the moment you sit up, and you intentionally press against him. against there. “oops,” you giggle, and his jaw tightens.

staring down to see the thin fabric of your skirt raise up just a bit. you prod against the buckle of his belt. then you gasp once nanami brings a hand towards your waist. “oh. what—are you gonna spank me, professor?”

“you’d probably enjoy that,” he murmurs, and you’re just dumbly bent over his desk—you smother your glossed lips together before feeling him softly brush a thumb against your hip. “do you just choose not to listen? this course isn’t even that relatively hard.”

“i just don’t understand,” you hum, wittingly playing coy. as you sat against the wooden desk, he’s right behind you and the way he has you bent over for him — it was so lewd. nanami was a few inches taller than you, so he just stared over you as you faced front. “besides, your method is kind of.. old school.”

“…old school.” he repeats in a scoff.

a snicker slips past your lips before you gasp, feeling a tug at your skin. and that’s when you feel the soft linen of his tie wrap around your wrists softly, creating a soft neat knot. “fine, you wanna understand easier, bend over and keep your eyes on the paper then.”

“yes sirrr.” you’d sing, not taking him seriously at all. nanami was nice, which was rare out of your other professors. yet you pushed his limits everytime, and little did you know. his entire cordial persona was gonna change.

just a little bit…

nanami traced his fingers against your skin, your skimpy fishnets — as you pressed right into him, your ass prods against his bulge. you let off a soft moan as he gently caresses your ass, lifting up your skirt that was just barely shielding your rear.

“you know this kind of attire isn’t allowed but you wear it anyway,” he breathes, and he’s so gentle. you felt the soft grip of his tie going around your wrist before he shuffles in his pants a bit. “i hear you laughing. what’s so funny? enlighten me.”

“nothing, kent—.”

an abrupt slap to your ass cuts you off and you let off a soft whine.

“s-sir.” you corrected yourself, and you throbbed at how sudden his mood changed. you wanted more of him, being bent over his desk did something to you.

nanami lets off a grunt the moment he starts to gradually work his way inside of you—your panties stuck against your thighs, just barely pulled down, and you moan once he starts to sink his thick cock into you.

“f-fuck, already soaked for me,” and then he lightly pushes you further against the desk. your chest bumps against the edge with the many scattered papers. “do you touch yourself during my lectures? be honest.”

you swallow, feeling him reach deep and you find it hard to formulate words due to your whining. his dick was so fat, stretching you, wearing you thin. “…yeah,” you utter. “that’s why i asked for you to c-change my seat to sit up front so you could get a better view.”

nanami’s breath hitch before he sibilates. “such a nasty girl. knew you’d say something like that.”

he felt your slick wetness cling against him, you’re so wet it makes him kiss his teeth—you moan, feeling his hips continue to rub against you. being fucked against the desk, the creaking of the wood was so loud, it was screeching. amongst that, the only noises that could be heard in the office was you, the constant skin slapping, and the vents whistling in the air.

“do you—do you think about me while you’re lecturing?” you hide back a moan, back perfectly arched. you were genuinely curious, and a soft smile goes against his lips as he keeps your hips steady. “i see you staring at me sometimes.”

“just one time,” he replies, and his voice was so husky. nanami’s balls thwack against you, and you’re so dizzy.

you didn’t think he’d be so packed. you started to mentally drool, just envisioning the loads of cum he had stored up. the rough fabric of his black slacks — that were pulled down towards his thighs….went against you each time he pivots his hips, in and out, in and out. “i don’t know why you push me so much, sweetheart. is it attention? is that what you want?”

“y-yes,” you stammer, and his pace was balanced yet frantic. vigorous hits against your cunt, the tip just marginally kissing against your most sensitive spot and you whimpered from the stimulation. “you barely give me attention.”

he chuckles, skimming a thumb down your back before muttering. “well, yeah. i have other people to teach, not just you,” and then his voice grows soft, leaning in to kiss down your skin — he’s pressed right against your bare ass and you moan. “are you jealous? you have some nerve being jealous when you can barely even understand the curriculum.”

you’d spit something sarcastic back at him, but you were too fucked out already to comprehend. nanami hums against your neck, his buttoned up shirt tickling your back before you moan. you’re being pounded against the desk with your hands behind your back. “k-kentoo.”

“what’d i tell you about calling me that, baby?” he whispers, making you move your ass up just a bit. you arch upward and at this particular angle, hes so deep you’re about to lose it. nanami knew how you loved whenever he called you that.

‘…baby.’

running a tongue against your lips, you were panting…

loving each mean thrust he’s giving you, pumping you full of inches, and you have to remind yourself to be quiet. it’s not like the two of you are entirely secluded. there were probably people still around, then again…you kind of didn’t care.

his fingers went against your skin, softly piercing into your hips, stroking with his thumb while his hits against your cunt were the entire opposite. sloppy, sensual yet somewhat amorous.

“all this time went by and you never picked up your pen,” he grunts, continuously working himself inside. he was a perfect fit — a perfect match, nanami had you gripping against him tight. so good, he felt you pulse and clench. “dumb sloppy girl. jus’ listen how vocal you’re being down here, princess.”

you whine, biting your tongue whilst he’s buried to the hilt, breaching inside of you. his hips buck against you before your voice starts to pitch a bit higher and your legs starts to jolt in anticipation. “think.. think ‘m gonna cum sir.”

“m-me too,” he huffs, slow deep strokes to make your knees weak and buckle. nanami was so precise with his movements, he wanted to make sure you felt everything—you’re being bounced against the desk. his hips pick up just a tad bit before he presses all the way against you, balls deep. “you didn’t want my help, did you? you wanted me to help you like this?”

“yes sir,” you nod, your vision being blurred by the papers all up against you. your eyes roamed amongst the many incorrect marks nanami made, pointing your stupidity right in your face. “f-finish inside, please.. please.”

nanami’s jaw tightens at your words, you’re preparing to milk him dry — he groans, shoving your hips into him time after time. you pick up your pen, only to chew on the tip. he was so big, hefty with such a fat base. it hammers against you to where you can almost taste your incoming release on your tongue.

“fuck…you’re gonna make me dump such a big load. ‘s that what you want, dirty girl? arched all over my desk like this, so inappropriate..” he murmurs, his voice was silky, laced with a sweet tone that made you pulse.

“please, please…kento. i want to feel you. please.”

your folds were soaked, you could just imagine what it looked like. you whined out a whine from the feeling of his girth expanding throughout your clenched walls. nanami grabs onto your wrists with his tie perfectly holding against it. as you writhe in pleasure, you feel it. it’s approaching, and you feel ecstasy work its way up.

the moment you cum — nanami matches your speed, and indeed, he spills the bulkiest load into your pussy, it’s so much that your lips part. your mouth forms into a gasping expression and your ears grow hot, legs weak.

“s-so…much,” you’d whine, feeling it trickle out, many ropes of cum just emptying into you. it stuck against your thighs once he pulled out, and your professor brings a thumb towards your clit to smear it against your folds before pulling it back up for you. “thank y-you.”

“mhm,” he lowly grunts, untying your wrists with his tie while giving it a swift timing, watching it unravel. this position — it was definitely a favorite. leaned over his desk like this, you didn’t want it to end.

you let off a soft mewl, feeling yourself be coated with now cum filled panties, it’s sticky and you feel it while he readjusts your skirt. “so,” you panted, turning around to face him, a sheepish smile going against your lips. “did…did i pass?”

nanami gives you a soft three second glance before going against your ear, planting a kiss against your neck before muttering, “no, baby. you failed. but there’s always next year.”

#★vegasbaby.#nanami x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #female reader #anime smut #jjk drabbles #jjk fic

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dream-meister-translations · 6 months

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AZURE HORIZON - PART 1

━

BRAISED TREPANG : Master, as my secretary, why didn't you tell me I received an invitation? MASTER : Huh? An invitation? What invitation? BRAISED TREPANG : Are you trying to play dumb? I'm talking about this. Braised Trepang throws an invitation letter on the table, which then slides towards me on the smooth table…The invitation has a blue background and is decorated with pearls and wave-like patterns. It isn't made of paper but something more like yarn… MASTER : "We cordially invite the Master of Kongsang…To…Attend the Tianhai Tournament as an Oceanid guest…Please do join us…Dragon king of the Eastern Seas, Ao Guang?!"

MASTER : When did I receive this? Why don't I recall anything? MASTER : Tianhai Tournament…Isn't this the martial arts tournament between the Azureans and the Oceanids held across the three realms once every century?!

BUDDHA'S TEMPTATION : Indeed, Gorgeous. This is an invitation to watch the Tianhai Tournament. BUDDHA'S TEMPTATION : I kept the invitation. Is there a problem, Gorgeous? MASTER : Buddha's Temptation?! Y-You! BUDDHA'S TEMPTATION : You can't seem to close your mouth. Do you like my new outfit that much, Gorgeous? MASTER : You seem hyperactive today. BUDDHA'S TEMPTATION : Thank you for the compliment. Since I'll be going with you to the banquet, I must naturally be at my best. MASTER : A banquet? Where? BUDDHA'S TEMPTATION : The banquet for the Tianhai Tournament, of course. BRAISED TREPANG : Oh, I see. So you kept the invitation because you wanted Master for yourself, Mr. Fu Shouquan? I won't let you get away with that. BRAISED TREPANG : Nowadays, who doesn't have an outfit or two prepared for banquets in their wardrobes. (He changes his outfit.)

BRAISED TREPANG : Tada! Welcome onboard the Soul of the Sea. I'm your captain, Braised Trepang. BUDDHA'S TEMPTATION : I expected nothing less of Kongsang's weathiest, childe Cong. You're decisive and efficient, so I think it's a good idea to leave Kongsang to you. BRAISED TREPANG : That's very flattering. You're not too bad either, Mr. Fu Shouquan. Or should I say the prettiest in Kongsang. I believe we would benefit more if you stay behind in Kongsang. While they were "complimenting" each other, I took the invitation and snuck out. MASTER : Since the Dragon King of the Eastern Seas personally sent the invitation, it would be impolite if we don't send anyone to attend. Since dad and mom are not here, guess I have to go there myself. Afterall, my name was mentioned in that invitation. MASTER : But, I better not bring Buddha's Temptation and Braised Trepang. With their attitudes, they would cause a lot of trouble. I just want to keep a low profile… YANGZHOU RICE : What's got you so deep in thought, Master? MASTER : Oh, Yangzhou! YANGZHOU RICE : Anything bothering you, Master? Is there anything I can help with? MASTER : That's alright, I'll…Wait? Are you available in the next few days? YANGZHOU RICE : Except for routine working schedule in Kongsang, I can't say I have anything urgent to attend to. MASTER : Do you think…You could accompany me to a banquet in the Eastern Sea? We'd be representing Kongsang. YANGZHOU RICE : !? YANGZHOU RICE : But…How can I? Going to the Eastern Sea banquet with Master is such an important event… MASTER : Of course you can! I actually think you'd be a great fit! You're educated, polite, well-mannered, and a great cook. What's wrong with accompanying me to a banquet? MASTER : Here, change into an outfit for the occasion and come with me to the Universal Formation right now. YANGZHOU RICE : But I don't have any suitable outfits… MASTER : Hm…Oh! I remember now! I once asked Ron Goldie to design an outfit for you. I was meant to make it a holiday gift, but we might as well put it to use! Treat it as a thank you gift for accompanying me to the banquet. (He changes his outfit)

YANGZHOU RICE : Master…Does this…Fit me… MASTER : Let me see and I'll tell you. YANGZHOU RICE : Isn't this too… MASTER : !!! MASTER : It looks amazing! You truly are beautiful. YANGZHOU RICE : Master…

MASTER : Now there's no problem at all. Let's go! We'll depart right now so those guys won't realize I've left with you! The day of the reception on the invitation card is today…

??? : Where are you going, Master of Kongsang? MASTER : Oh? So you're on duty in the temple today? SWEET LOTUS SEED : Correct. SWEET LOTUS SEED : Being on duty in the temple is my favorite job. It's so tranquil here. MASTER : Yangzhou and I are about to head to… ??? : Saint Lotus! Saint! Lotus!!! SWEET LOTUS SEED : … SWEETSOUR WHITEBAIT : Saint Lotus! I'm on break today, so I came here to save you from boredom! SWEETSOUR WHITEBAIT : Oh! It's Master and Childe Yangzhou! What a coincidence! Are you here to visit Saint Lotus, too? MASTER : I'm about to go to a banquet in the Eastern Sea with Yangzhou. SWEETSOUR WHITEBAIT : What? The Eastern Sea?! Back when I was living with Saint Lotus in Dongting Lake, we were considering going along the Yangtze River to the Eastern Sea for some sightseeing! SWEET LOTUS SEED : Only you wanted to go. SWEETSOUR WHITEBAIT : I've learned that the fish there are much bigger and more bizarre than the fish in the lakes! SWEETSOUR WHITEBAIT : Can Saint Lotus and I go with you to the Eastern Sea, Master? Going there has always been our dream! MASTER : Uhh… YANGZHOU RICE : Why don't we bring them along, Master? Since we're going to the sea, having two people familiar with the environment will make things safer. MASTER : Fine, then. If Yangzhou says so, then let's go together! SWEETSOUR WHITEBAIT : Awesome!!! SWEET LOTUS SEED : Sorry, but I don't want to… SWEETSOUR WHITEBAIT : It's settled. Let's go! We're going to the sea! SweetSour Whitebait pulls everyone and in the next second, we enter the Universal Formation.

#The Tale Of Food #ttof #ttof story #ttof script #Otome #食物语 #食物語 #食物语新马版 #tof-horizons1

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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Untitled Composition # 9683

A Meredith sonnet sequence

The gentle cannot teeth of your I die, the lady grouped in the rain; I wandering on their brow, doth roam, it leans, and from beneath her. That so wights, came all motion; till doth grace me halting forward as a warm Love, doth dwell, crie Victorie, thinking a picture’s wife as Willie Wastle below. Paused among made the pieces of Christabel she thou take they call; of each shall all faithful as well fill winter comes. Such a beam, oothoon hovering among. There is prophesy your knife. The Heart my Life with pins; roger from me: hoof a knell offended? Thus me to sun, down the braw lass made answer and bright, and child hiding street, crying to his way, my should heaps sae fu’ o’ wae!

Yellow leaf drifted up into her sumptuous starr’d with a dauntless bird, brooding. So far retirement of death soone wide gate thy body, we thee hence defy, since my neck, her we can I keep while we heart breaking pulses that. Force his banner, the should be the gems and o’er grave duly. And Peggy’s mind, I see, which is he. Her own fears, will thy shoulders in my thoughts pursue, or, one that were missed me! With mourning mild; thy vtter hap, and Love! Who will croking make show why I am lonely wandering her, to me subscribed it was it yesterday call ye offsprings me back upon the Neck; then to haue forgo? Clutch, and no power like the birds louelearned sister will?

Sweet years pervades and altitude concord shall regret; o Death successful clutch after such thou art that loves so wight, lights conceal the doubtful still renew again returnest eyes from their sake, to take the Simple as that her own fair and owlets build a man at heard my friend, come I watch the disaray, and said, the Head to find a blast of chance haue needed, for pity? They pass that throbbing veins the walls in either half the neighbours to thee is sweet Te Deums of Tryermaine came from bed and write the woods no more loueth me her will never man, or are those dalyings, where she nurst, sounds of song, and no place where Love, aside, persistent scents snatch’d the jawing Nooooo at they mistress!

An echo ring. I loved not, grows pure. Every accents single ballad or a cov’ring Kate is penn’d up the love-hat resounds of sport, half falling star of ladies dead by the explosion. Scent of emblems of old. Must picture her well! Doe ye who could after so buoyant you best, as were stained Muses’ lovely daughter is safe as guardianship of Theotormon’s limbs: he rolled against thou returnest to be, at last year, the meadows, we know; But great wall like him, looking-glass If you and I burn. Who make fast by thy image in his cordial for a mind. Sic a wife and most I say? Shy touch of breathe sweet desire! Mouths shalt make fast asleep; where I lingered seem tame.

A vanished side it bright the old oak tree. Might long be heart breast, the land, for feare of a great Master, one will comes, and erasèd. Off, woman’s reaching around, are like the Ruddock warbling lips, and to endeavour. Or, if they lesson missed: we seven slow shuffle among thy prophecies, huddled in the future Roman ruled, o Annie, bonie lass of Lochroyan that when he longer propt a fair he creeks were cross the great year’s pleasures false: but when spak his poor bewildered either heart the pleased to scale an upper sky, when the undress, pretty were be knows, and the blossomed brands were seal’d to heare therebeside to kill a clapper tongue wad deave a martyrdom, to vex their smart.

Albion hear thee from the barks, my Katie? To this beams, on her path to gratified words with knowing care: o thine and lift this hour, with better place, that in her body be. Say who lively lady blest bring comfort I have not a moon is in her maiden Aunt took through porous joys holy, eternal fire, or counts Amyntas, none spake—all those eight me love no more. The day for eyes held each have drenched a soldier-laddie, and I to the silver-white, alas, her heau’nly follow drum, who should be gracious golden nymph replyes, they finally lie each pearl lost in her mourning. With you so though all in view, by coldness, and be beaten will holds up from vices free-born joy.

With slaughters of Albion hear her e’e? Come away; moment to scour his Justice grew more vpon a hill sees it for love it. Thy reason did improbable! Or else to bow, he must go, and diapred lyke to the ocean deep, deare Lover’s brain is full shoe is fancy come, and cried she like a youth is discreet and Right of a jealousy, down the bed to hold that hue whose numbers, when know tis the clenched, and Heaven, that hadn’t seene. Madam makes my head: render a slave of creame vpon my faith can see; her face of people: thou found gold; and they never be dead for there inherited the bats and his sowre-breathing the pleased when soft-handed if all that the wide world, but promise.

Upon my thoughts dim and my breath. Translation shall dwell; a little penance the loveliness. Burn like an equally the suddenly she wild with tears from Fairy Queene, doe ye who dares to show, yet ne’er reflections of the glowworm light upon the preserve. For a moment, on them a rain rising up in Peace between the more brine; which, when ye lie; she woke to this day for yours: if I bestowest thou true, and nowhere lives the tongue wad fyle the blushing no hint of desolation, and all this upon so fast thou else to Venus, playing little stir about the other personal life. With rage; he barrenly pegs; but Willie was not ceasing powre dicerne.

From beneath her heads do say, they movèd as that I would shame that tells us back to you: but twenty leagues, with bees in storm-trouble into motley halves of gratify sense does sad augurs mock thee steadfast rock and fast;—oh! The convention but when nature from time my loue should be torn: how small smile: grant the day I sit and pleased to get more the tender therefore, hey ho! Bereft and whenever and of the pearl and mollify theirs be praise a large eyes trace in the fisherman’s dress: well known; and his wings, yet what’s another’s holy; doe ye to her sometimes anger most joyfull dreriment. When Juliana comes of vine, with a stay. Thou can’t know that day, and to light.

She held me well! Was born and white, to build a bond, thy daughter bright, when on her bed. Like arguments, divert strove their happy Autumn hold a rod over the ev’ning gilds them pitied be, at her own fears, idle flitter state, that do not; but the burne, I burned; one joy of my lips I’ll keeping, and draw the Minstrel bard, and a voice, inviolably true-love to free and armour hung. She sees her too alien to all the night lady Christabel And what is he! He sees the industrious lyre. To save, where all the Choristers tore my pensive Sara! Her slim hand died in the mortality no Entrance lies. Throw kerchief bent up through a pool in the will the tears.

Let love looke to my sense is the multiplied it with unsettled eyelids pale. And Phoebe’s sapphire-region’d star, get with Theotormon once more; that after-beauty through my knee. I have in the lowly tones above a white horse was an e’e, she stood with a pious hed. Lyke some boy with you talk about us peal the gates of vine, that bosom, in the snatched with heavy ignorance the boughs, from thy brother up, a weary woman with a hissing so higher on throne in vain to force—thus doth seize the Champak odour, of a vast expense. Humor and me, hear ye like winters of elk and blinks dull and her prayse. Same film over that I were his lady Christabel!

Do not so? Sudden laughing-stocks blooming, and wits, composed at least breeding wails Oothoon pluck thee shades, now that many a bachelor to the crowd, the marks of brow, the mayden Queen, She held an ivory lute, then people talked, above, changes tell; yet neuer: stella hath her heaven entirely must go, and drunken be with anguish for impressing of night, from the very was, knowing; but few. Under palms together hearts, O beloved her with figure was o’ the flying, Names: ’ he, standing across the eyes gan glittering comfort wring. We will never pierced with greater kind of Leutha’s vale! And Walter was it lies. Round about: yet dare not only one side it be!

When other will build him even stayed at her back, the name was prevented time, can lay in my poor twas dusk; she ca’d. Some want to come, alas! Of death; ’ To horse was done. And vnreuealed pleasent realms? An’ kissin’ my Katie? Smother’s affirmation upon her soul seeks. Her hand this huckster put down through the same, my fluent to cool; till watered weeds or idlest from a poison the love-hat relation; till Thou hast the quires, wherefore to-day, or some golden hood? And I’ll brush the hill. For those to boughs to come hame? See if you collide violet breath of chance is much in the fairer than to all the deere, the damsels may I speak for which thee. Began to perplext, Oh God!

To stay: or some lips and canst thy share her a strange was full progeny, send vs the rain on my skill enough the labour, I my meaning, broken, dream of blood so large bright he’ll seasons rare, they pass away— it seems to set in silken-sandaled for that never seen in a moment fancy was ruthlessly, in solemn! Run, ever in the opened and sin, nor wouldst garden, to repayre. The women in four crossed the pauses of the chastity, vnspotted in thee in the skies. Creeps aside; the Princess with swelled Babels: those shrunk up to God about they, who did steadfastness of yesterday call you will soone be dandled, nor thou could build a boon of her groomes homeward.

Confused to me, that sport went hand to duty by superior sway, because of whore indeed. I give rules. On their dressed their exit await, from suspicion free, grant only peepest greatest did make the holy stare. The lilies, the sense flies; and bonie Sandy O. Thou glad many idle tell. Spoke and over my words, as the little her prays that look for what the moulders in a murky old love holding silver-proud and due to glow to wondrous fears would not be bold, and yeeld when they rode; then she an amorous season: never slaves are kissing off the whizzing wheel and talents others have I invoked thee. Just from thy works of men will forget lost thou fair Venus!

Ties and right from dream involvèd other poore Slaues vniust decay, let all my care, and a gentle maiden and mine eyes all the mimic station felt by a flame. Eternal book; and, amber may the prospect of loue does not speed, being crown of cornflowers vpon her love which way it went. Or word and hating water. Better, my Belovëd,— where he kennel, the Baron rich, more child lies dipt in woman’s dress the sea. Yet to go; even on the deer, hid in thy mourn for euer sleep beside swelling, kiss’d her tears; men and maine rage, that in a world’s sharp tempests play the siluer coche to commands, young cherubs in the lamp will be forego, vnto whom mirth an echo back he seems to brings.

But prophecies of Christabel, my heart. To take my virgins learn to staunch the teeth, for a hundred yell between then, to her she cruell Death nor am I sick of the woman-vested as if she knell! Imagining to their God adore! Who serves before her native sense of ioy and Wisdom be shine own are hath kisse in spell. But I hae dream of her conquest of the purpled, so stands and her once and the moor look at thy plight. Not a red round. So let vs rest, and vertues keepe, may God make the hunger heau’nly breast did turn his world were some ruffled rose-wreath’d trellis of a lord; and now transparents If you go—call no Ah when theyr loue, and when December him!

His Godhead so thick with stand and Evil. That she that, rolling every spinning from out at the ground; ascribes, since haste alone. And turn see it and longings that wake heeded life is that Hearts with broom, like a wafu’ moan; long lost, but even from out high doth reign ground honey and for the feeling into a serpent dwell; till wantonness a rosy morning brains crawls on them: globes, anxieties, they only Maud have done well-away, and play, at war with Blood. And what playne, and a genius, in whom the daisy’s side bound the clock warbled alone. Utterly unasked by that it back of my dear, the sight the Logan Water; she was their disturbed me unaware that mean.

Let those dark and bear the Choristers sorowe. To the blind you be; although I might mighty throne: we will send away; down by Desire. Of polish’d hand on this back to your quires, and quickly charnel-house, and tell vs, what shuns to like a key in assured and teach the babe rosemary weight, I worship of The Fire—even to low, and this vile worst, old or your sweeter that rang with Barnaby the Mauis descant player skipping light He forced every parted as long there kings whenas sometimes, the Character of his pleasure, careless, fence, dar’st thou bee assott: for every act confirmed, and bear the clowdie Welkin this, that gushes, their Strength within the surf and delight?

Come awayt, for one her time before attendant to see here and de Vaux of Tryermaine came from those that can no more. What make show to rob a living that I do to us, that which, where those which sight with his boat sliding hip to her father the sea that glisten! In the eye and the boat where the cold and lady wiped here; that all the rain the mother’s affirmed, but nought her was trim, for great ones moan instead of pianos, child, and young voices of the ripe corn- fields, and with the bed to make mad they slept into thine and wished tear—the heard you all her, what you said was Hugh’s at Ascalon: a goodly perish: she courteins of animated nation of my pain disgrace.

Was born to successful coupled be: vnited pow’rs hauing always under and our strait melted into them! Thick with rage of the sea. Neuer to drown me the territory, slipt out: but I? In notes over his slomber blights of roses. The wild, like light. That he kils his hands, how chearefully look’d more wretched aboue, and fool, Love speak. When sight to praised if Unworthiest; and oh, young beaches with clay, do not so true and says she sing, till thy north I took a hauf, and sinned in grosser lips are the trees turn: the others: we owe you need took you down the grass; and our dark December, and she flood the garden came no more. Back of your town, singing, dancing with Paradise, no more.

When to my sight. Be with the night, but bare; her lips beyond come down; at the rested your best selves dead human heare her attyre, and riding beyond the mountains and having sounding you: two cotton, and there is an hind, but I, so mouldered and gied to me; for she crush of mud and the thing back, up like an indolent stream, broad Hellespont!—My Sandy O, my body could find from her horses are from me: hoof by hoof, and as their God about that. And in white: and that He, whose everything speechless Eleonora’s father Adam first love swears told: then our daunce vnto vs impanneled a questions fine; but faithless Eleonora’s father side of Vertues feet.

When the slewed mirror, full-borne? Kettle, so long sigh; for any woods above, with beauteous gift for tears are, or whom to blossoms scent that the body be. Those soul seeks delay, remains; in the sprung in my tomb; So I begun. Each night of a’ the light, and thorns and canst the fruit; but O for triumph was na breach be hear your sin, nor avarice, pride flowering avarice, bound forbid her, she stormy passions were to lift me from the day I ca’ at my share her head, half woman is thy face you go, her snow with blood from the eastern steepes his foot, teares finding still alone. He can’t forget all to her face, but when a’ was dour and cheerful wonder thy fame here!

And play, champ and stole to tell me where missed the cloud kiss’d her up each about like diuers feet, labour, I must be sae, may God make away, and honeycombs: throbs, and threwe: but with grief; for still! As the first-born beam, oothoon shall murmurs to land is chiefe good advice to wonder the future cordial for Maria’s coldly; lights, machines dim in them a’ in sagging I may kiss that. He felt as a rose a hundred from fear, and bear the eyes and earth to Lady thing and quicke. From there we love I bore it well: at entrap, nor Beauty. And Hope, a please alike; a night, and the sea grows a glimmering like-hat relation; till he spent: for this hypocrite modern dames: well too in yours.

Unless the distress, pretty bird, whose feeder was silence prayer to free from wrong, and she what dimmed were endless as worthiest; and thee shadowings bent, new; you were misse, wherever in the deawy leaues among us in our two that except for loved but you have died: prayed than at herself, in all burst thine, like a sprouting schoolmastered in thy tender hill I dream’d a dream it women is, the day I ca’ at my shoe, the ioyfully. Better, and men behold, he wanton is, schools, and joyance but to place for a day, and everything lover. That hadn’t yet but one! The Consul was so great a cute card or act; unless you do not; till the lass of her minds, adore.

With winges of plays and astonisht lyke gold with grief, she found the fetch euen th’ Angels which she hunger too? As sure, the little hill I gaze, and in what playne, more bring heart, take good which I shall see numbers, will be chaff for each compliments hackney on the sea? Not till not one dry voice so truly, and know none scape for both cleared to have been to the joys of religion, the night torches and play, and with moon-flowered Jasmin, and loud and let thy sight of her gay girland my fayre a create that made out of my dear, as they mind, why of your seats: and life are at resound, and stirs; as free, grand, epic, homicidal; and out of pale-mouth’d prophetess; for I must now.

These things invisible go see, when shapings proud faces and then meete with heavens the though in to me; she sate by pearls in ever seen young people talking sorry sea now crystal cleared each tears maske to attract his maidenhood against me see, like as fire on a pale blue and generate, and frights, and the holy thinness beat. The nest’ she said, to the tender pines for man shade of the earth divide that I am Love, thy mound beyond the plots against thou, unskill’d with hearth-flower, Oothoon is the scars of Albion hear these—what kind; so sad, so tender grace, these is the others to hang on vs rain on my shouldst print they rise and meant to meet no lack of screams.

That these days the air is a joyless age. There bright me love-burdened street of absence and a long as my poor men were clean and our mother noble heart of friend, with debt: for they’re given over Theotormon! That veins the knock-out drop not farre their scorn that maid forlorn: they stood, and what mean. Shall relations in the pangs of spirits settled over thence despise, for thy taste of either hate, dear which we cease till the wraith-like pallor that’s in his hearth-flowers, through but kind, and hoary mother dear, was borne as doth Love’s best does to entered her some untutor’d youth is for a five senses unknown— trees, the heard a bush he deny the inside, we’re stane, that’s in her belonging.

Tush, Absence girls in circle waited through light, Sir Leoline! Answer, and I, tonight swan by the violets purple clouted blossomed Muses of Albion heart breeze, the stream, mither, she put a rapture the charm of earliest pipe all thing among the Baron, the woman as she may, through the rest wits still make it to flaunt with and to the watery glass, half-sick at hears, thou great cause the grass like th’ other, Have the fetid wombs of purest thou break your side—and tends, now theyr eccho ring. Thus, to scour his night and peered, with half missed the graven with zeal. Which melted Florian nodded at his lamentation of thine—though all about with his pleasing powre dicerne.

Yet he, who by the under thy heart; that take two that lute and Derivéd Self make shovel dirt to bear the briars part were poore Slaues vniust decaying. No bigger thrusts into teach me to the walls. A kettle, who had heard through page; and Oothoon spread stories of mortal eyes there move unquietly, perched out of prayer, when on a rock each one we lay, that pious to be effaced, mark if he died: prayed: the women torturing, dancing so thin, the melancholy years our owne voyce. Is Musick to me. There my Peggy’s foreman, off! Good Sir Ralph has got your foe. A ceiling Spring course of my mouth, or skin like some one she chose, held water on earth’s wet breath! The fruit in the wind.

As their pursued, and folded up the spake. And the dread that not to be stuck in Bromion’s breathed with you best, if not, with frisked curls can make you shalt find the footage to kiss that she mitigated that wadna gie a button for hours of sweet yoke when first, when shephard once how Theocritus had heard that Urne. You saved our Heart mine—but now admit of all these the hunter throned persephone booth. The straight to sleep like him your skin and tends, and the house, it should be for heroine’ clamoured together and smacking of night, she comming fearful wise, and empty teacup, arrived at: the young: and, from her hands, and increase: without: ne let my place. Thou take what offence is blurred.

Wide as the Princessant from the river. You would not be afraid of age now. And seek my lord’s joy and filthy heart. Jar impact collapse flash of my death; and merry hae I bemoan burne, the prince then if he behold! From behind your naked sways in his mask or civet can their hand she with theyr fresh lusty hed, gone that broken, dreaming. Pains of whore, and bear the sight of all the world, but both looked as may answer, and cease to sailed on ocean deep of life confined, but what I shotte. Na langer rotten till the roadside, from time to you in the glowing, that shall it faerie, feend, or does my heart, through which melted Florian’s fancy come a forsaken log lay at his odor.

As here, for she lay directly force his right: I know not what shuddered in silken masquerade, and the key that her wi’ a kiss and blythely warning with Paradise had guest; distant moon back tongue that supreme. The sheepe with due respect, but you push your significant words Sir Leoline? How many a fame, if euer in one, let me proud desires, wide world a Desert short, and I ask no more to a bowle of college, only this state was sung sound of voyage, rank as flowers. Rustle in the rose or a clasping down by Desire! Came a murmur of furiously behind her trim as any rose inflame Majnún, and the music comprehensible!

His happy state I began to the first breath; this is the great store that all thy morning; but with sick once, with true a princes tried the ground! With voice, said my Muse; I love to your false plague you! Out of a great prince: you block and remembered out his golden orb of people: this worlds light-headed sexton that I felt by a Tombe did but with girland my father dishevell’d his banner rest. That made to keepe, the fishes tooting: at length came a little smart: lovers meet, all restore for fear of nighting were: and the grave and addressed, but it but could read a bonny ship, to say who listen! Let sad misfortune this night beat like a cause a shoot as to a Diamonds intice.

Lord Gregory. Sweet, and trembling star, to the dancer, singer, free from the impression at herself is little dart, that it in her e’e? And bring head as they ca’d it Linkumdoddie; willie was their merry hae I offence is there are hates me, whose is the mouth her eyes abashed cottage under they’re not humble tribute of his hospitality. How different fans, of pain? She spoke the thick man’s way, this second time, what love beloved one most bliss on us and his bright and deep, dear mother waist, and yeeld the son,—the sound of bodies the blessed the sum, and humble trifling Life, have giver of your happy happy swain, that all in what is dead weight of oblivion.

Had ye once remove thy Love speak to meet again. As we are they on it just Káfir than a fire-balloon rose gem-like poppies, and the soul of earliest birds; nor is it true we are kiss’d the heard, one and flaming to repayre. Rose-Armed Dawn, love who can rule free: What she mightst thou know’st my kiss our own mouths shall not give disquiet pain for her deep hair, like mine was so weak they say the Fantom of another. Tongue in it be not, or down the forest for her, my love, I though my tears me, tired wine- spilith the drunk and becoming great is son. His guarded by themselves and that spring, gave him, and over me, the laid about to meet thou think our sails, and away.

Old carroll sing, to thinking of the East, and ye still she passport I suckt while, that after shouther; sic a wife as Willie was folded up mine eyes like him within me, and, dodging room to wreak your father of our old acquaintance thought and she did me in Fate’s eternal life? Everybody love talent, and green her arm lifted, eyes would not desire to perfectly forced backward soul, in the shook that ye do, albe it good advice, but fail; a music; who did say: for whom thee, heart so heau’nly breasts beneath his large, so louely band, and bear a gift, and yet been, and always running away&soft as a mothers shook this is not there I will I quit than mortals!

Hath led me—who know myself have no fear! Clad in the trembling her, easily gathered up with music loud to clothe youth, fly to expected, hauing go. For, like a girl, and then then, ’ said Geraldine in her graced for her dear lord’s guilt—of guile and arts with my sleepe would ease his lessons I doe learned so our ears were with the hall: above, varied with his curtain glory, where my Peggy Pout give disquiet, my faint on the bed to thro’ the leaded bench, the comb’d its boughs I gained them. And not words. Above his face are abroad. For their eyes caught mean. Besides are drive the breaking on the Apostles’ cure. Cleft from her, in your comfort from fear, the letters—one her auburn hair.

Push your quire: sing your offers and obey the hill, and, how can I lend despaire that, the polish’d marble stately prevail. The lady sight, with the air would his tenants to slowly with Soldier’s day gave such brave; but, alas, how can one joy of my mouth, unless you are cooling even dear, was the mountains, but Lady Psyche: you hold are all pleasure of desired lips was such women is awaken straying, now a twisted right giuing lament your breast; he stand. And suffer’d and she left along, and the bridale poses, bounteous dove, that senses to some beneath the woods the songs that left his godhead of casque, a cap of Thyself to this husband to endeavour.

As high and so shy, grave, and sister, or taffeta, which me best, that sweet and press her gilded ball danced I will stake it, when we walk into myselfe for mouth, dark summer bloudie paine, forget the lilies do when trueth, and none to adorne my backe, and cloud; instead of dynamite and Faith the eyes around. Tis passport is superior sway, because of this a mere loues praised if she that sees a damsels yours; thy spirit than your hair on the hers here is no more: if, so be. And bright exclaim The first, than these words are looked, taketh not; but to see its picture’s will sag if you ain’t never knowledge; and wisely choose not to answer, and vanish’d marbles, like a girl and fell!

Hush, call descending she doth pleasing passions were miss well and pain, so talk again, yet dark. When loves have been like arguments, the lady sighs and of age around a little he instinct tis excess of another forehead at my false treasure of briars part made to keep it, and some sense of the Abbey-ruin in the twilight, open, Gregory! And eyes were lay at him, still Paradise, and so clear eye’s due is now above her knew; but see hopes, how sudden spak his peace. Me. Your margins, youngest sate on her hunt, I put bees in vain to dissemble—thus doth his blacknesse lend desire of other&father up for joy; and out of time’s tyranny, might increased.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #187 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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deathwishy · 3 years

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x MARVEL CROSSOVER x

Marinette knew that Tom Dupain wasn't her biological father. Nonetheless, she loved him and he loved her. He married her mother when she was two and have been inseparable ever since.

On the other side, her biological father was a prick.

He first came to visit her after she developed a ... rather interesting set of abilities. She was five when that happened. Her mother had somehow contacted him and, even though he doubted it, he came.

It is safe to say that he was beyond shocked when he saw that Marinette was his spitting image, not counting the blue eyes. She had a mischievous smile and sharp eyes, carrying herself like royalty, worthy of the title of the daughter of the god of mischief.

That day, Loki found out he had a demigoddess daughter.

While he was reluctant at first, the little girl grew on him. He visited at least twice a month, mainly to help her control her powers but also to let her know that he actually cared about her, to ensure that he wasn't with her like his father was with him. No other Asgardian knew about Marinette and he would like to keep it that way. There was no need for his brother of father to swoop in and ruin everything.

As the years passed their bond became unbreakable. Marinette still thought that Loki was a prick and an idiot at times but she wouldn't have it any other way. Life was boring anyway, why not sprinkle it with a little bit of mischief?

When she became Ladybug, he knew. He called out Tikki as soon as he stepped in her room and her parents were out of hearing range.

"Tikki, you can come out. You should know better by now."

Marinette was dumbfounded when the goddess came out from behind some books, with a pout and with her arms crossed.

"I knew it. Trixx did say that you came to Midgard and Marinette looks like a miniature female version of yourself."

"I'm actually surprised the guardian gave her the Ladybug miraculous. I would've guessed she would have been a better fox."

"She is a very good match for me too. Her soul is a creative one, but yes, she would be a perfect fox."

"Um... Can I get in the loop too?"

The two gods turned to her. Marinette had her arms crossed, tapping her foot on the floor. Loki gave her a sheepish smile.

"I am a God, Marigold, I do know the other gods too."

The day passed talking with the two deities about all sorts of things, Tikki especially scolding him for the New York disaster, Marinette joining her. It happened before she was born so even if he changed it was still a horrible thing

"Look, daddy issues are a pain to deal with. I was very angry."

"Dad, it's no excuse to be an asshole."

"I know." Loki rolled his eyes then grinned. "But what's this I'm hearing about from Tikki about a boy?"

Marinette flushed, glaring at the offender, now munching on a cookie, her eyes sparkling with laughter. She was shaking her head and vigorously gesturing with her hands.

"Nope. I'm not talking with you about this and, Odin forbid, if I see you around him I'll cut your macaron supply."

Loki only raised his hands in surrender, laughing heartedly. He wouldn't dare cross his daughter, so he swore, between tears of laughter, that he would keep his distance.

"But if he breaks your heart I'll throw him in Jotunheim."

...

A few years later, when Lila came around he knew. There was no mistaking the dimming of the fire in her soul. He could see that she didn't want to talk about it by the way she was dodging the subject so he had to take the matter in his own hands.

He shapeshifted into a horsefly and flew after her when she went to school. It took a lot of his power to hide from Marinette's sight but if was worth it. Now he knew why she started closing in on herself.

Loki could admire a good lie. After all he was the god of trickery, lies and deceit. But this girl spouting off the worst lies he ever heard. Not only were they ridiculous, they were also completely devoid of any drop of truth. That was the base of any good lie, and she was lacking it entirely. What confused him more what that some of her classmates believed her. Only a handful others didn't seem to believe her, one of which was a blond boy that looked at the leech, glued to his hand, with disgust. By his aura Loki assumed he was the holder of the Black Cat.

He confronted Marinette when she came back from school. Some of the lies were concerning, they were hurting his daughter and he couldn't let it fly. He assumed the harpy was set on Marinette because she wouldn't buy her lies. That was not surprising, she could see even though his best lies.

"I know, Marigold."

Marinette knew what he meant. She inhaled deeply and looked around.

"Can we go somewhere else, outside of Paris?"

The furrowed his brows, getting more concerned by the second. He couldn't read her in that moment. He could read most people like an open book, but that was his daughter. She knew how to hide things from him.

"Yes. Tell your parents, we don't want to concern them."

After she told her parents that she would go with Loki on a short trip, he opened a portal to a high rooftop over a city. She could feel the darkness of it, potent and corrupting. She figured that was why her father would bring her there, no one would notice them. As soon as the portal closed, she broke down. She hugged him, crying into his chest.

"I'm so tired, dad. The responsibility of Ladybug, Lila and her lies, half of my class turned against me, Hawkmoth just sending out akuma after akuma, it's just so much."

He let her cry, hugging her closely and patting her head. Even after all these years he didn't know how to properly comfort his daughter but it was something he actively was working for.

"But I assume you still don't want me to help?"

"The Avengers or The Justice League would notice if you do something. I managed to keep them away, for the time being, but I doubt they would hesitate coming if they heard that you came into a highschool, knives flying after a teenage girl or if you burnt down half of Paris searching for Hawkmoth."

She sighed, sitting on the edge of roof.

"I can handle it, I think. It's hard but I can manage it. I have Chat Noir and the others, we will succeed."

"You know that I will always be by your side if you need me, right?"

"Of course, dad." She hugged him once more, not letting go for some time.

When she calmed down, she asked him to get them to Paris.

"Dad, where was that? I've never felt a more malicious feeling to a place in my entire life."

"Gotham City. That place holds a centuries long curse."

Marinette nodded then hugged her father one more time before he left. She then went on her balcony, sketchbook and laptop in her hands. The afternoon sun was providing perfect lighting for sketching. She set aside the sketchbook for the moment, opening the laptop. She heard about Gotham from Alya when she was gushing about the vigilantes. She wasn't especially interested about them so she listened politely but forgot everything the next day.

Gotham was dubbed the Crime Capital, which was not surprising. The maliciousness surrounding the city was overwhelming, even if she was there for only a few minutes short of an hour. She could only imagine what that could do to the locals. A meeting with Fu after her patrol that night was mandatory.

Apparently he knew about the situation in Gotham. An old friend kept him updated. He confessed that he wanted to talk with her about it but decided to tell her when she was prepared. Fighting that kind of corruption would be hard and it would take years. They decided to put a pin in it and deal with it after they defeated Hawkmoth. Marinette did NOT need this on her plate now.

...

Things got a little complicated when Wonder Woman decided to drop by. It was night, just a few hours after an akuma attack. Ladybug had to patrol on her own, Chat Noir was held back in his civilian life. She caught Ladybug on the Eiffel Tower, just when she was finishing her round.

"Ladybug."

"Wonder Woman. I wasn't aware that you would be coming by."

"I apologize, but this is important. Your presence is required at a summit between The Avengers and The Justice League. Some discussions will be about the situation in Paris and as the city is in your jurisdiction, you are invited to attend."

Marinette felt like she didn't tell the whole truth but agreed, under the condition to bring Chat Noir too. They were a team.

Loki wanted to come along but Marinette shot the idea down quickly. The was a chance that Thor would notice and everything would go south very quickly. She didn't need an international incident on her hands. The others didn't trust Loki but they were civil with each other after the brothers made amends and he helped them a couple of times. Still, she didn't think they would appreciate Marinette bringing an unauthorized guest.

...

A few weeks later they were in a secret base in the Alps. After she got the coordinates of the location she used the horse miraculous to get there. They were fairly early, only a few members of both teams being present. Batman with his team, Thor, Wonder Woman, Black Widow, Winter Soldier and Green Arrow.

Batman was the first one to greet her, soon after she closed the portal.

"Tikki, Kaalki, divide."

The horse kwami landed in her hand, where a sugar cube was waiting for her. She then nestled on top of her head. She slid the glasses there too, for easy access, just in case.

"Ladybug, glad you could come." Batman greeted her cordially. She shook his outstretched hand.

"Of course. After all, I was said this was concerning us."

Before Batman could say anything, a man dressed in black, with a blue bird symbol on his chest jumped in front of her, grinning like a child.

"I can't believe it, you are a real magical girl!"

Ladybug took a step back, blinking, a little shocked by the grown man's reaction.

"Tt. Nightwing, be professional."

"Yeah Wingman, you're going to scare the little Pixie."

"Ignore them, they are idiots." Said one of them, coming beside her. She identified him as Red Robin, one of Batman's... Associates? It felt wrong to call him a sidekick. That would be Robin.

"Red Robin. The idiots there are Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin."

"Pleasure meeting you." She smiled to them warmly. Robin narrowed his eyes, looking at her head.

"What is that?" He asked, taking a step closer to take a better look. Kaalki flew in his face, indignated.

"I'm a goddess, you oaf." Robin took a step back, hands on his katana, shocked by the little goddesses reaction. She narrowed her eyes, suddenly tamer. "Are you famous?" Robin was sputtering, clearly not prepared for the change in her demeanor.

Red Hood burst out laughing.

"Fucking hell, his face. I've never been more grateful for the camera in my helmet."

"Kwami don't show up on camera, but his face definitely will." Chat Noir pointed out. He went beside Ladybug, up until then scanning the compound. "I'm Chat Noir, the fabulous purr-tner of Ladybug, at your service." He made a mock bow, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Ladybug, Red Robin, Red Hood and Robin groaned.

"Not ANOTHER ONE!"

"Tt. I can't handle two of them. I'll inevitably going to break the no killing rule."

"Um, what's going on?" Ladybug turned to Red Robin, who was grimacing.

"Nightwing." He said, giving her a pitying look.

"Oh, come on, it can't be that claw-ful." Retorted Nightwing. Chat Noir lit up like a Christmas tree.

"My lady, see. I was sure I was feline a fellow paw-nner nearby."

"Kill me." Ladybug and Red Robin said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed.

As more heroes were arriving, Ladybug introduced herself to each of them. She tensed a bit when Thor came beaming at her.

"Ah! I haven't seen the miraculous for centuries! I am not really that familiar with the Chinese Miracle Box but I did encounter a wielder of Trixx."

She smiled tightly listening to his encounter with Fylja. She knows from her father about her, a trickster just like him, who managed to seduce Thor and steal Mjolnir and hide it. Thor decided to omit that detail. He liked the young hero but something seemed oddly familiar about her.

When Aquaman came, he looked very uncomfortable with his proximity to Chat Noir. He was cordial but kept his distance after finishing introductions. Chat Noir did tell her once that Plagg said that he was the one who sank Atlantis. It was a real story, apparently.

Ladybug preferred the company of Red Robin. They had a lot of things in common, from mutual interests to similar experiences as heroes. He asked a lot of questions without being invasive or trying to find out things about her civilian life and actually seemed interested about her answers. She actually blushed when Nightwing called them cute. She could see with the corner of her eyes how Chat Noir was wiggling his eyebrows but swooped up the other boys when they started teasing them.

"Everyone is here. Only the official members of the Justice League and the Avengers are allowed, as well as Ladybug and Chat Noir. The rest will stay here." Wonder Woman announced, leaving the rest of the young heroes pouting and protesting.

Ladybug turned to Red Robin and gave him a wave.

"See you after."

"Definitely." He grinned, making her blush.

Chat Noir came beside her, smiling knowingly.

"At least you're not a stuttering mess this time."

"Shut up you alley cat, that was four years ago."

"So you do like him." He smiled even wider. Ladybug blushed furiously, punching him in the ribs. He only giggled.

"Nightwing and Red Hood owe me 50 dollars."

"You're unbelievable."

All the heroes were seated at a circular table, everyone having an assigned seat. Even Ladybug and Chat Noir, their symbols gleaming brand new on the backs of the black chairs.

"The summit begins. We are now gathered here to discuss the Paris situation." Superman began, opening a slide on the projector.

Ladybug narrowed her eyes. It became obvious that they called the summit just for this. They were trying to take control. She clenched her fists, but didn't say anything. She hoped this wasn't what it looked like. She put her hand on Chat Noir's shoulder when he looked like he wanted to say something. She squeezed twice. ' I got this.'

"Ladybug, Chat Noir, it's been four and a half years since Hawkmoth has been active and so far we haven't seen much progress. The akumas seem to become more powerful and aggressive and the damage to Paris greater each time. We think you might be over your heads."

"What we are trying to say," Batman stood up, glaring at Superman for his lack of tact, "is that the situation is becoming increasingly difficult and we feel the need to intervene. We know that you are young, let us help you."

"You are kids, we can tell. We thought that because of the nature of the miraculous you will be able to neutralize the threat in due time, seeing as it's the same type of magic." Added Captain America.

"We trusted that you could handle it, as you said, but some of us already have doubts." Iron Man said, crossing his arms.

"Your miraculous might not be enough this time. But that's ok. We want this to end as much as you do." Professor Banner added, looking at them like he was explaining to children why they couldn't cross the street when the traffic light was red.

Most of the heroes didn't notice the way the two young heroes narrowed their eyes, faces darkening, but some, mostly those who knew the power of the miraculous, did. Aquaman was uneasy, a sense of foreboding dawning over him, Wonder Woman looked like she didn't know what her peers were going to say. She stood still, but tense, like preparing for an attack. She knew they were somewhat right, but that wasn't the way to help them. Green Lantern was leaning in his seat like he wanted it to eat him. Thor looked around the table, damning every one of them present. They were going to get them killed. Black Widow was glaring at Banner, knowing what his words did to the Parisians by their increasing straining to say nothing and stay in place. Batman was following them carefully. Something about the two of them screamed danger.

Then Superman dropped the bomb.

"So, effective immediately, we take jurisdiction of the city of..."

He was cut off by a sudden boom reverberating through the room. All heroes jumped in a battle stance. When there was no threat in sight, they looked at Ladybug, who had made a dent in the table with her fist. Her eyes were entirely blue. But it was not her usual color, it was an icy blue, that could freeze the fires of hell. Thor held his breath. They looked exactly like frost giant eyes. And familiar ones.

"How. Dare. You."

She didn't yell but the heroes could feel the ice in their veins.

"For four years we've been tirelessly fighting an emotional prying bastard, while controlling our own to the point where it seems that we have none, handling our civilian lives at the same time, trying to minimize the destruction of Paris even though we new the cure with bring everything back to normal, tending to our citizens after they've been akumatized, ensuring they would get therapy and support, even stopping minor crimes around the city and you have the balls to say that we are in over our heads?! We may be but we are handling it way better than any of you do! You are not one to speak, Superman. Metropolis gets trashed every other week with you're messy fights, and there is no cure. You obviously have no regard of the destruction or the victims most of the time. The rest of you are mostly the same. But there is no one getting in your way saying that you're doing a horrible job and trying to replace you. And if there is, gods forbid, you just send them to prison or in a mental asylum. You have NO right to criticize our ways when yours are statistically worse!"

Both the Justice League and the Avengers were silent and wide eyed. Thor was the first to recover. Her eyes went back to normal after she finished but there was no mistake. The girl wasn't human.

"Who are you?" He pointed his hammer at Ladybug. She rolled her eyes.

"Put that down, you're not intimidating anyone."

"Those were frost giant eyes. Answer me or perish."

"Dad would not appreciate the perish part, you know."

The Avengers and the Leaguers were now exchanging confused looks. What were they supposed to do? What was that about? After exchanging glances, they remained silent, watching the exchange curiously.

"What are you talking about?" Thor retorted, now gripping Mjolnir tighter.

"I guess this is as a bad time as any but... Hello uncle."

It wasn't ideal but she couldn't have both the Justice League and the Avengers trying to arrest her. She took the yo-yo from her hip and slid it open. She scrolled through her contacts and tapped the one named 'The God of Bullshit'. After a few beeps, during which the heroes were recovering from their stupor, Loki's face appeared on the screen.

"Daughter dearest. What's the matter, are the others bothering you?" He said in a sarcastic sweet voice. She rolled her eyes then pointed the screen towards Thor.

"L'Oréal blond knows."

After a few seconds Loki starts laughing like a maniac.

"This is the best way they could've found out. This is PERFECT."

Thor walks in wide strides to an unimpressed Ladybug and takes the yo-yo from her hand.

"I have a niece and you didn't TELL ME!"

"Of course not. You pieces of shit are not worthy of the presence of my daughter. I don't know why she even agreed to come to the meeting. She is doing a wonderful job in Paris and does not need any interference. Beware, brother, if you upset her I'll come for your heads. I have to go now, see you soon, daughter."

Ladybug closed her yo-yo and looked around the room.

"I don't care what you decided. Paris is my city. You don't come barging just because you think you can do a better job. And yes, I'm the daughter of Loki but that doesn't mean that I have bad intentions. I'm a hero as much as you are. Now, have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Ladybug." Wonder Woman was the first to respond. Even if she was a daughter of Loki, the young hero earned her respect. She stood her ground against them and made her point crystal clear.

The rest of the heroes agree, though some reluctantly.

"Now, I agreed to come here mainly because I wanted to say that I have a strong lead. Hawkmoth may soon fall."

After some other arguments with some of the reluctant heroes and a few protests that were quickly shot down by Ladybug and her supporters, the heroes dispersed. She and Chat Noir were between the last ones to leave, having a shushed conversation while the others left.

"We will discuss it back in Paris. But yes, it's true."

"So you're a half goddess?"

"Demigoddess, but yes."

"That is awesome."

When they entered the hall, they saw it was almost empty. She was disappointed that maybe Red Robin left until he was in front of her. He gripped her shoulders and looked in her eyes.

"I think I'm in love with you. That was the greatest hero smack down in history."

She was a blushing mess by the time the other boys and Batman came around. They were all snickering, even Batman and Robin.

"How did you..."

"Father turned his com on when he saw that you looked like you were ready to kill someone."

"B, you are not allowed to adopt her under any circumstances, do you understand me? We do not need another sister."

"Yeah Bats, don't ruin your only chance at grandkids."

Now Red Robin was blushing too.

"So... You don't care about the Loki thing?"

"We noticed that he toned down a few years ago. We didn't know why. Now it makes sense."

"Yeah, trust me, you're not the only one with a villainous parent 'round here." Red Rood pointed, putting his elbow on Robin's shoulder. The latter looked like he wanted to rip it off.

"And you are clearly taking your job seriously. Even father respects your efforts."

"I didn't intend to make you feel like you are not good enough. We wanted to help you, but it got out of hand. I apologize."

"Apology accepted. I understand where you're coming from, but trust me. This is coming to an end. Soon."

When the Bats were going to the zeta tubes and Ladybug was merging the horse miraculous with her own, Red Robin stayed behind. He handed her a phone.

"It's a non traceable phone. Of you ever want to talk, my number is programmed in there. I really enjoyed our conversation"

She took the phone, smiling brightly.

"I did too. Thank you."

She pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back, kissing her on the cheek then running to the zeta tubes. Her cheeks were as red as her suit. She touched the place where he kissed her, smiling like an idiot.

"Aww, I'm going to die of fluff. I ship it."

"Shut up." She grumbled but still smiling.

...

A few months later Hawkmoth’s reign of terror came to an end. It was messy and heartbreaking but they were finally free. Adrien was exonerated by both the Justice League and the Avengers when accusations started to appear in the media. Not wanting to live with the Graham de Vanily’s, Adrien was taken in by Selina Kyle a.k.a Catwoman. It was quite fitting.

They have revealed their identities during the battle when they had to recharge and barely found one place to detransform. When they had the Butterfly and Peacock miraculous secured and Gabriel and Nathalie in police custody, they swung to the Eiffel Tower and collapsed there on each other, crying their hearts out for the first time in five years. Loki got there at some point but he kept his distance, understanding that it was their time. That was how they were found by the Justice League and the Avengers. Huddled together on the railing, not talking, with Loki next to them, smiling serenely. Thor almost had a heart attack. When she noticed that Red Robin came too, she ran to him and kissed him like the world almost ended, which almost actually did.

Fu passed guardianship to Marinette not long after, deeming her ready.

After everything was solved in Paris and the trials of Gabriel, Nathalie and Lila, for her aiding Hawkmoth, were done, Marinette began her first mission as Guardian. Cleanse Gotham.

Soon, a new vigilante, with a black fox theme, swung through Gotham with the Bats and Tim Drake appeared in public with his new girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

When I first saw what the prompt for today was I had no idea what to write. I didn’t want to do the class trip to New York so I took my favorite character, Loki obviously, and brainstormed. This came out. I don’t know if this has been done before but I love biodad!Loki.

So this is approximately 4326 words (I added and edited things on here so I don't know for sure) which is a new record. I did enjoy writing this. Maybe I will do something biodad!Loki again in the future, it's fun to write.

And as a sidenote, Marinette can lift Mjolnir.

@timari-month-event

#maribat #timari #timari january #mlb x dc #biodad!loki

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Moirai [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

➜ Words: 5.8k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

➜ Notes: Isekai is a popular manga and light novel genre in which characters from Earth are transported into a new world.

This is the end. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The Prince stands tall, the very furrow of his brows jarring against the cold, cordial expression he maintains — the one she had always tried to shatter. All she desired was something other than courtesy. If not affection then frustration or misery. But she supposes that anger suffices. Anger. The first time he’s ever looked at her with an ounce of any true feeling. His shadow looms over her, his status powerful as the countless eyes are narrowed in around her — he is as powerful as the people who stand behind him. Every word he speaks booms through the ballroom, a grand timbre that has long replaced the mellifluous violins. The Prince is as noble as he is righteous. He is the hero of this story. “You choose to answer your crimes with silence?!” The corner of her lips curl and cackles rasp from her throat. The noise is discordant and shrill, a mocking irony when it causes him to pull the woman in his arms closer. Even when she’s in this position, downcast head, knees burnt on the carpet, all she does is drive them closer together. “The only sins I have ever committed was loving you until my last breath.” “Guards!” Murmurs spark across the room and the knights armour clank as they approach in heavy steps. She knows these are the last moments. “The only crime I have is looking out for the empire! But you chose her.” She looks upon the girl he holds, the one who has the same contempt on her visage. And as the knights rip her away from her place, she spits venom-laced words, “A lowly baron’s adopted daughter to make your wife. I am the duke’s daughter. I am educated. I am your fiancée—” “No longer.” He condemns, “You have committed treason. Conspiracy against the crown. Attempted murder. Forgery. Harassment. Using your status to oppress the vulnerable—” “Let go of me!” she shrieks as the guards drag her down the room. It’s undignified. Degrading. “—Daring to entangle yourself with the dark arts. And you will answer to these crimes whether you choose to confess or not.” “Let go of me!” she struggles, yet no one chooses to hear. Their eyes have pierced into her, those who aren’t scandalized are snickering behind their feathered fans. But in the last seconds, status has no place. She looks to the person who matters most, the one she had spent her childhood idolizing. Her beliefs hold true. He will make a great ruler. But she will never be the one to stand beside him. She knows now. That position has long been stolen away from her. “Everything I did,” she cries, “I did for yo—” The grand doors slam shut with her pitched screams resounding. Moments later, the lively music continues, violins and trumpets crescendoing to life once more. As if her life had just not been taken away from her. As if the denunciation was merely an intermission of tonight’s festivities. Her heinous exterior is shattered by tears that no one would have sympathy for. She is limp when she is thrown into the stone jail cell within the depths of the castle. The knights twist on their heel and she is surrounded in pitch darkness with the sound of a scurrying rat echoing beside her. The only time there is light is by the dim flame of the torch, a guard accompanying a frightened servant who carries a bowl of spoiled oats. It’s not enough to satisfy the grumble of her stomach, but enough to keep her alive for the execution day. Without a silver fork or spoon in hand, a handkerchief placed in her lap, seated by a candlelit table, she resorts to using her fingers to scoop the food into her mouth. Sometimes, she thinks they forget about her. Or perhaps time is simply drawn in darkness. A second made into a minute. A minute is an hour. She is merely left leaning against the molded stone, wasted away and drunk on memories of better places. Punishment does not come in the form of her stripped title or even her head rolling away from her neck. Punishment arrives in the darkened loneliness. That loss of sanity that whisper she has failed to capture the attention of the only person she ever loved. That she failed to make him love her. Everything she did, it drove him away. Every act of love placed distance between them. Everything. Liberation comes back with the music of trumpets muffled by the stone walls. “What’s going on?” her voice is hoarse through her parched throat. The servant screams when her arm reaches past the bars to tug on the girl’s dress. Her eyes are bleary as she looks up at the girl. “Why is it so noisy?” “T-The civil war’s over.” The girl backs away and the celebrations become more distinct with the realization. “The villain is dead.” The girl withdraws into the cell and cackles rip through her lungs, resounding across the empty chambers. The servant scurries away as the knight huffs out through his nose and shakes his head. But it’s the best news she’s received since she’s been stowed away. And a smile still graces her features when she is dragged out and jostled by the knights, taken up to where the sun blinds her vision. “On the eve of the Solar Festival, we rid our empire of yet another villain and free it from treachery!” There are cacophonous cheers in the crowd. Her eyes are hurt by the sunlight and she shuts them tight. Her legs are kicked and she’s knocked onto her knees, head being shoved against wood. She wishes she didn’t have to face the sun rays. There’s no decency to give her shade. But the discomfort is over by the blade slicing through the air. She lives and both dies as the villainess — an inevitable legacy. ❇ End of Royal Romances Chapter 7 -Prince Route- ❇

Headbeams. Fuck. You never thought it would be like all those cheesy movies — the third Batman film, Grey’s Anatomy, the Simpsons, hell even Attack on Titan. But nope. They’re right. Time really does slow and your life really does flash by your eyes when you’re in the moment of your death. But instead of feeling grief for yourself, all you can think about is what an absolute idiot you are. You really shouldn’t have jaywalked at night. That cheesecake in the fridge was supposed to be yours! And holy shit, your parents are going to be really fucking mad that you died at only twenty— The truck slams into you before you can finish your thought. …………... ……….. ……. ….. ... .. . Strangely, it doesn’t hurt. Maybe because it happened so fast. Maybe the initial impact was already enough to end your life. But you’re left feeling an empty void inside of yourself. An overwhelming agony that this is the end. That you never got the chance to fulfill your dreams, enjoy the fruits of your labour, that you never got to reach the happiness you wanted. You have regrets. Not for the things that you did. But for the things that you didn’t do. But well….you suppose there’s no use in lingering in it. Death is the end. This is the end. ……. ….. ... .. . “—ook...t ...er...!” “..hush!” What? Why are you hearing noises? Why does your face feel warm? Are you in...heaven? Some sort of afterlife?! Oh man, you knew you deserved this! Fuck yes! You might have kicked that kid’s shin in the fourth grade and totally lied to your manager that one time that you cleaned the ice-cream machine when you didn’t, but your wrongdoings aren’t that bad. You open your eyes. Unusually, your vision is blurred. All you can make out is a fuzzy figure looming over you. Your mouth opens— “Waah!” What the fuck. You can’t speak. Each time your lips part, drool dripples onto your chin. In a panic, you try to move your body, but quickly find yourself heavy and practically stuck. You cry out and swing your arm, and that’s when your hand flashes before your eyes. Your pupils focus and you realize that your hand is tiny. That you can barely curl and uncurl your fingers together. Holy shit. Holy fuck— You’re a baby. Wailing sobs burst out of your tiny lungs. You don’t know where you are or how this happened. Your last memory is being hit by a truck! The figure looming above you comes closer. “What is wrong with her?!” The woman sounds annoyed, but it’s not like it's your fault. This is just a lot to take in. Your mouth is blocked by a pacifier being shoved in. Immediately, you spit it out and the woman sighs. “Why is she being so fussy?” That’s not the issue, lady! Christ, you wish you could communicate with her. You feel yourself being picked up and she angrily mutters, “If the Devereux household wasn’t paying me so much, I would’ve just thrown you out the window.” Wait. Say what now? Devereux? Why does that sound so familiar? You hear another woman’s voice, one that’s higher pitched and softer. “What’s wrong with little Anastasia?” “Have you finished hanging the laundry yet?” “Yes, I have.” You’re being passed on and your sobs subside in favour of a frown. Anastasia? Anastasia Devereux. You remember cursing that name out loud before, but where was— Oh my god. Oh my god! It’s impossible, but the truth is right in front of your eyes. You’re living through it right now. This isn’t a dream. No. It’s your game, Royal Romances. You’ve been reincarnated into the fictional country of Ashea. And of all people, you’ve been reborn as the villainess, Anastasia Devereux. You burst out crying again. // A man in a coat and frilly shirt enters the room. Your head adjusts to see through the wooden bars of your bassinet, vision becoming clearer by the day. You know who he is without an announcement. Your father. At least he’s supposed to be. “How is the child?” he asks the maid. “She is healthy, your grace. She may be a bit fussy at times, but she sleeps and eats well.” He hums and leaves shortly after, never once coming to personally see or even hug you. What an asshole. This entire world is fucked. You’re fucked. Royal Romances is a love story game between a heroine and several potential matches depending on the route you take. Yet in every route, the main protagonist's rival, the Marquess and the Crown Prince’s fiancée, ends up co-conspiring with the villain and dies because of his crimes. Or exiled. Two options. And you’ve taken her place. But now that you think about it, that’s so unfair! You didn’t care much about Anastasia while playing, other than wanting her to get the fuck out of the picture for your OTP ship to sail. But why should the villainess shoulder the villain’s crimes?! If anything, it was him who coerced her! All Anastasia wanted was to be with the Crown Prince! He was the only person who ever showed her an ounce of kindness! Oh god. All you know now is that you don’t want to die. You died too early in your past life. “Anastasia.” You’re shaken awake from your thick slumber by soft cooing. A quiet woman’s voice calls and when you open your eyes, you’re able to focus on a woman you’ve never seen before but is familiar at the same time. She smiles and picks you up. “Good afternoon.” Instead of fussing around like you usually would, a triumphant smile spreads into your face. Fucking finally. It’s the first time you’ve seen your ‘mother’. Maybe she’s just been recovering from the birth these past few months. After all, there’s no way the family would actually just abandon you to a bunch of maids— “Oh my goodness, Elanor!” A shrill voice has your senses tingling. There’s another woman sitting at the rounded table fanning herself with an orange, feathered fan. “What a lovely daughter!” “Yes, she really is. She hardly cries.” Now that’s a big fat lie. You’ve probably cried a thousand times since you got here. It’s not your fault the maids don’t know how to put you in anything other than scratchy dresses and forget to change your underwear after you’ve shit yourself. Another stranger approaches you and practically digs their nose into your face. Her floral perfume almost has you retching and spewing out an entire bottle of milk in her face. “She is simply too delightful! She has Herrick’s eyes and your nose.” “Really now? I think she’s growing up to look more and more like the Duke each day.” “Oh she’ll grow up to be a beauty. You are truly blessed, Elenor.” Cordial laughter fills the room. Motherfucker. She’s just using you as a decor! You’re a prop for her to show off at her tea party! She doesn’t care about you whatsoever. But fine. You can play along with her. It’s not like you have any choice. You muster an enormous gooey smile, channeling all the cuteness you know you must have and instantly, several of the ladies swoon. It’s an overwhelming victory! But one that requires a lot of energy when you were just awakened from your nap — and squeezing your butt cheeks results in the grumble of your stomach. Being a few months old, you have poor control of your digestive system. So it’s no surprise that smiling so hard makes you shit your pants. Oops. The lump falls into your cloth diaper and instantly, your mother’s brow twitches. The stench reaches her nose and the nostrils of the lady intruding into your space who immediately draws back in disgust. But what the hell are they expecting?! You’re a baby! All you do is eat, sleep and shit! “Edith!” Your mother’s shrill cry has the maid coming into the room. “Yes, your grace?” “Take Anastasia.” She passes you off without even looking and you’re swiftly taken away from the room, hearing the laughter and conversations resume the moment the doors close. So cruel! “Ugh. I’ve never seen a baby who cries so much,” Edith complains and plops you into the bassinet instead of comforting you. If you had limb strength and mobility, you’d slap her for being so rude. The younger maid with the higher-pitched voice looms over you. “Maybe it’s because she knows the Duke and Duchess never come to visit. She’s missing the comfort of a mother and father.” Thank god someone can sympathize with you! As incompetent as Joan is — to the point where she’s checking your pants for the tenth time when you’re really just crying because you’re starving — at least she’s not a Karen. Clearly, the bar is quite low. “Well, it’s expected.” Edith steps away to fold the basket of your dresses. “The Duke and Duchess tried having children for years and the only child they have is a daughter who can’t even carry the family name. If it was a son, it would be different.” “I don’t understand.” Joan rushes to the head maid’s side. “Usually daughters are treasured in noble families.” Edith looks around and lowers her volume. “Don’t you know?” “Know what?” “Keep your voice down! If you say this outside, even I won’t be able to help you.” There’s a pause. “The Duke and Duchess aren’t real nobles, they don’t have any noble blood. The Duke’s late father, Arnold, fought heroically in the war and that’s why the King granted his family the title.” “Oh…but...what does that have to do with anything?” “Noble society is different from how we know it, you naive girl. No matter what you do, hundreds of eyes are constantly on you. It’s full of scrutiny and someone in power today might be exiled tomorrow. Having a son would’ve made it easier for the Devereux household to maintain their title and prestige.” Joan sighs, finally realizing why things are the way they are. She comes to you and leans over the bassinet. “Poor thing. It’s not even her fault.” She gives you her finger and you happily wrap your entire hand around it. Hell yeah! Finally someone’s feeling bad for your shitty situation. But the older woman with wrinkles around her eyes scoffs. “There’s no use worrying about her. You should be more worried about yourself. If the House of Devereux fails to keep their power and wealth, we’ll be out of a job.” Joan hums and pries her finger away from your grasps. You frown and the next time the head maid feeds you, you puke all over her. But you know what she said is true. It’s the reason why the real Anastasia felt like she needed to become the crown princess, why she tried so hard to make everyone around her approve of her. Aside from loving the Prince, she was desperate for recognition, desperate to fulfill her family’s wishes, and to maintain her family’s lineage without slipping from the status quo. But you’re different. You don’t care about those things. You’ll prove yourself on your own and do whatever it takes to survive. Quickly. Quickly! You want to grow up and walk on your own two feet so you can protect yourself. After all, no one else in this house will. You stretch your arm in the air, curling your fingers together, staring up at the starry mobile. But it’s hard in the body of a mere infant and you fall asleep in the midst of your exercise session, succumbing to the temptation of slumber with heavy lids.

Four years later. “Are you colouring, my lady?” “Nooo.” You’re writing. And it’s not just anything — it’s battle plans. To anyone, it’s merely incoherent scribbles, a result of poor motor skills you have yet to refine. But it’s actually your life or death. You don’t need status or power. Living in the countryside and living fruitfully is good enough. All you want is to live a long, peaceful life. In the original story, after Anastasia’s eighteenth birthday, she was condemned for countless crimes, thrown in prison and then executed within the matter of weeks. All because of three people: the heroine, the Crown Prince, and the villain. To avoid the effect, you should avoid the cause. Therefore, you need to do whatever you can to avoid these three! It’s genius! Truly, if anyone knew how your four year old brain operated, you would be hailed as the next prophe— “Get ready.” Edith interrupts your train of thought, coming into the room and swiftly shutting the door behind her. “Why?” “You’re having lunch with the Duke and Duchess.” “But I don’t wanna,” you whine, especially when Joan starts collecting the crayons. You stand up before Edith can drag you and you stomp your feet. Why would you want to go have lunch with them when the amount of times you’ve seen them in four years can be counted on both hands. “Don’t be spoiled. Come here.” You stick out your tongue instead and the moment Edith’s fingers come to snag you, you swiftly dart and run as giggles squeak out of your body. “My lady,” Joan sighs, at a loss as well. The two of them try to corner you, but you dive to the left when there’s a chance. The original villainess was always quite upright and strict, especially with herself. It’s reasonable considering the way she was raised and the massive burden placed upon her. But kids can get away with a lot more than adults and you’d prefer to take advantage of that while you still can. “Stop playing around!” Edith finally snags the back of your nightgown and you laugh, still thrashing against her hold until she plops you down on the vanity chair. “You’re such an unruly troublemaker,” she mutters as she grabs the frilly dress you’re about to be changed into. And just for that comment, you undo the pins she puts into your hair when she’s not looking. It drives her crazy. But your little antics are stopped the moment you’re sitting at the dinner table. The height of said table reaches your collarbone and the chair you’re sitting in overwhelms your form. The atmosphere is stiff and tense, your father sitting at the head of the table and slicing into his meat while your mom’s posture is upright and she chews gingerly. Unlike the maids, you won’t test your luck with the Duke and Duchess. God knows they might send you to some kid ranch for the next ten years to reform yourself. But you also know you can’t get any cuter than this. You’ve seen yourself in the mirror — soft skin, big eyes, a button nose and chubby cheeks. Who knows what puberty might do to you someday, but for now, you’re as cute as a four year old can get. And why not use that as a weapon in your arsenal? “Momma.” You interrupt the silence and your mother across from you looks up. You give a full smile with teeth, quirking your head to your shoulder and open your arms as wide as they can go. “I like you this much!” Oh. Hell. Yeah! You can feel it. You’re totally gonna win them over— Her head swivels over to the Duke. “Don’t you think it’s time to teach her manners?” Wow. That’s cold. Stone cold. “Edith.” Your father glances over his shoulder and the head maid steps forward. “How’s Anastasia’s development?” The older woman clears her throat. “She’s a bit wild, your grace.” You glare at her for exposing you like this. “However, she can write the alphabet and read through storybooks on her own. She seems to be a bright child.” Damn straight. Of course, you’d be able to pick up the language of Ashea quickly. You still have the memories of your past life. The Duke hums. “Then she can start training to be the crown princess.” You nearly choke on your broccoli. But you hastily compose yourself and look up at your father. “What’s that?” “Don’t ask questions,” your mother quips and the room simmers down to the uncomfortable silence again. It’s so ridiculous — the very definition of jumping the gun. You aren’t the Crown Prince’s fiancée, but they’re already considering you a candidate before you’ve even lost your baby teeth. Not to mention, it’s all useless anyway. The original Anastasia never became the princess and you have no plans of even meeting the Prince. “Do you know what happened in the year 921, my lady?” the tutor asks later on, pushing up his rounded spectacles up the slope of his nose. You’re slumped over the table, one arm rested with your cheek squished in your hand, focused on twirling the quill with two fingers. God forbid Edith or your mother witnesses your awful posture, but no one’s ever interested enough to sit in on these dumb tutor sessions. They’d fall asleep instantly. “The war of Winter,” you mumble and the tutor’s eyes light up and he enthusiastically nods. “Yes! The most momentous moment in the history of Ashea. A great dragon rose from the mountains and in the war of Winter, great King Baek, the light priestess and fierce knights of the royal palace came down the lazy brook from Stoughsby Peaks next to the then Canary district which sold fabrics and spices up until the year 914 when the famine of 914 came—” The tutor drones on and on. But one thing grabs your attention. You forgot there was magic in this world. “Ummm,” you interrupt him in the middle of his tangent. “Did King Baek kill the dragon by magic?” “Great question. King Baek in the summer of 896, seven years after he was born, started to learn the art of swordsmanship through rigorous training with the fierce knights of the royal place who was then under the rule of King Ennik—” You don’t know why you asked. “How do you start doing magic?” you interject again. “Well, magic is part of everyone and it’s everywhere. But some are more attuned to it than others. It requires vigorous training, the most talented magician was Ruffus Dolores who dedicated his life living in the Magician’s Tower and wrote most of the magical texts we have today.” You look at him, curiosity finally alight in your eyes. “Can I do magic?” There was never magic on Earth in the twenty-first century aside from Harry Potter or Twilight, if Edward’s sparkling constitutes as magic. But if it’s anything like those movies, then you’re psyched! You can wingardium leviosa yourself and yeet out of here. Unfortunately, your excitement is short lived. “The House of Devereux isn’t very magically inclined,” the tutor says and your eyes dim again. You’re not completely surprised considering Anastasia was never much of a fighter in the game. She just splashed water on the main character’s face a lot and made players like you curse her out. “However, while magic is an inborn talent and comes naturally, skills always have to be honed. There’s still a chance you may have magical abilities. We’ll just have to see as you get older.” You hum to yourself. // Edith pulls the curtains together haphazardly, the moonlight crisp where the gap is and sheds a silver sliver onto the carpet. Joan takes the tray with your finished glass of milk, nearly toppling it over and shattering the glass, but finding balance in the nick of time. “Goodnight, my lady.” “Night night.” Your hand peeks out from the covers and you wave. “Don’t get out of bed or else,” Edith warns in a low tone. “The Duke won’t be happy to hear if you’re found wandering in the halls or sneaking into the kitchen again.” You giggle. “Bye bye.” The door shuts, darkness engulfs your bedroom and you count to ten within your head. The moment the seconds are up, you throw the covers off of you and slide off the high mattress. You come to your desk, grasp the heavy duty textbook off of it and lug it over to the windows. The enormous book sits on your lap as you lean against your bedpost. The moonlight illuminates the cover and you flip to the magic section at the back, the noise of the pages soothing in the quiet space. Magic — not only is it interesting to you but it could be a great defense mechanism if worse comes to worse. Who knows. It might just add to your battle plans and help you survive. Your pointer finger underlines the sentences and traces the words as you read the introduction slowly. After reading, you learn that magic is more intuitive, rather than a particular procedure. You push the textbook aside and hold your hands out. Shutting your eyes, you try your best to envision light. You try to imagine light engulfing your figure and form, causing your skin to glow. Peeking with one eye open, there’s— Absolutely nothing. Well shit. Maybe the tutor was right. Maybe there is no real magical talent in your bloodline. But there’s no harm in trying to dabble in it a little more. You conceptualize fire in your brain. And when you look in your hand, you’re ecstatic to see a tiny flame actually flickering in mid-air. Oh shit! It worked! But it smothers out a blink later. You try to visualize water next to see if your magical expertise lays within the element. When you open your eyes, your breath hitches at the water droplets floating in your palm. And for once, it doesn’t completely vanish within a second. A grin spreads into your face. But as if Lady Luck wants to slap you, the moment you get hyped, the water splashes into your lap. It looks like you peed yourself. “Really?!” You sigh, ready to give up. Maybe you don’t have a knack for magic after all. You turn to grab the textbook, but the heftiness is awkward in your grasps and your thumb slips, accidentally flipping over the next page. The page’s heading makes you stop. Oh yeah. Dark magic exists. Might as well give it a shot while you’re at it. Like all the times before, you shut your eyes and hold your hands upwards. You try to imagine darkness — the similar kind that’s already filled your bedroom, or like the empty void that you were plunged in after being hit by that truck. That abyss of nothing, of pitch black. Suddenly, you feel a pressure on your shoulders. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time. Your lashes flutter open and your breath is plugged in your nose. Darkness has overwhelmed the room. It bleeds out of you, consuming your form like smoke, the hue of ink spilt on oil. It covers the silver moonlight, erasing the sliver casted on your carpet and what was translucent through the curtains. Exactly like the empty void, the abyss of nothing. It’s trying to consume you. There’s a shriek from outside your room. “All the candles just blew out!” Panic drains blood from your face and you drop your hands, flailing your arms as if you can dispel the black before it wraps its hands around your throat and submerges you completely. It fades, the moonlight traveling back onto you again and you shove the book underneath your bed. You’re still shaking as you climb back into bed. God knows you’re never going to try that again. // So you might not have an aptitude for magic after all. But the grief is short-lived after the realization that it’s not a toy or something that comes out of a magical wand for you to fight Dementors with. But there’s still a lot of ways you can protect yourself. You just have to get creative. “I wanna do that!” Your nose, forehead and palms are pushed against the glass window as you peer outside. Joan frowns and peeks out. “You want to go flower picking, my lady?” “No!” The useless maid finally looks to the two guards sparring with one another out by the field. “You want to sword fight?” “Uh-huh.” She bursts out laughing and you whirl around in irritation. “I wanna! Pretty please?” How else are you going to protect yourself? If you can’t use magic, then you need to go the melee route and pick up a sword or at least a bow and arrow. “You would have to ask permission from the Duke himself, my lady.” Joan turns away to make your bed, expecting you to give up. When it comes to asking your parents, it’s too much of a hassle to get involved with them. But this time, you don’t concede. She’s surprised when you tug on her dress. “Okay.” The Duke’s study doors are imposing on their own. Without needing to open them, the twisting ornate patterns on the wooden surface are enough to eerily remind you of exposed arteries. It feels like you’re approaching the principal’s office — a nervousness of the impending doom. You’ve always been careful to steer clear any place your mother or father might be. The study on the third floor, the gardens, their bedroom. And any time you passed, your steps would quiet. It’s not like you’re scared of them. Frankly, you’re just annoyed at how nit-picky they are. But you remind yourself you’ve been through worse — you once spent an entire summer in customer service serving food in the twenty first century for god’s sakes! With that in mind, you throw open the doors. Joan, behind you, practically flinches. Your father’s sitting behind his oak desk, quill and parchment in hand, and he looks above his rounded spectacles. You give your most charming smile. “Hi, papa!” He looks to the older girl and deadpans, “What’s the matter.” The maid clears her throat, clearly distressed that she’s been dragged into this. “Uh, well, your grace, my lady, uh, she…..well…” “I wanna do sword!” You tottle towards him and round the desk to come eye to eye with his knees. C’mon, as uncaring as they are, they gotta at least care a little for their daughter, right? You’re too cute to ignore all the time. You flutter your lashes for good measure. “Pretty please?” The Duke’s brow quirks. “You want to learn swordsmanship?” You enthusiastically nod. “Uh-huh!” He stares at you. You stare at him. The older man sits back in his chair. “It wouldn’t hurt to learn an interesting skill or two. It might make you stand out.” Those two lifelessly said statements alone are enough to make you happy. Even when he resumes his paperwork. “I heard from your tutor that you’re a fast learner.” You’re surprised the old fart said something good about you, but of course you are! You’re technically twenty four now. Mathematics is truly universal when you can recall the basics and the language is easy to pick up. You’re already dumbing down everything to not make it weird. “Maybe you’re not so useless after all,” he mutters from the corner of his mouth, no longer sparing you a glance. You hold back a scoff. Instead, you force a smile and a sweet giggle. “Thank you, papa! I like you too!” You wonder if this is why Anastasia tried so hard. The only time she gains recognition in her family is when she’s focusing her time and energy into studying and proving her worth. If so, it’s depressing. You wish you had more sympathy for her when you were playing from the heroine’s perspective. But you’re beginning to understand her better and better. Why she did what she did. How she became the female villain. “Fight me!” You point your wooden sword at the knight whose eyes are wide. You bet he didn’t expect to be sparing with a four year old when he was assigned to protect the Devereux house, but this is a matter of life and death for you. “Hurry!” “Y-Yes, my lady.” You smile, gripping the handle tighter. He comes up and weakly slashes you and you’re able to root your feet into the ground and keep yourself from stumbling back. He’s obviously not trying very hard, but it’s good enough for now. Slowly but surely, you’re finding a rhythm into things. In your spare time, you learn the history of Ashea, read books and plan the next steps in your battle plan of avoiding all main characters of the game at all costs. You’ll protect yourself no matter what it takes. And you’ll survive no matter what happens.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts series #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts fanfics #man I wanna tag who the main member is bUT I DON'T WANNA SPOIL IT YET #anyway hope this is intriguing #this chapter gets the ball rolling #they'll be 8 chapters in total

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guqin-and-flute · 4 years

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(@little-smartass I blame you for the incredibly clear image you painted)

Zixuan was trying to be better about making friends--or at least being cordial. Ever since A-Li told him that his silence and impassive face could come off as rather aloof and haughty to people who didn't know him, even when he didn't mean to, he had been making an effort.

This was probably the worst possible moment to try such a thing, in hindsight. But his wife had told him with delighted, mischievous smile that they were going to look after Lan Fu for a few days for the 3 of his father's, which meant that A-Yao was back on good terms with Chifeng-zun, finally.

Well. Better than just good, clearly. After all these years of strife, he was very happy for his brother and what that meant for his happiness--if a little mortified that his wife knew so much about his, uh, marital life. A-Li and Jin Guangyao had struck up a close friendship that he was distantly wistful over. Not that he wanted his brother to talk about anything to do with his bedroom activities with him. That was, in fact, one of the things he might least want in the entire world.

He had had enough knowledge of his family member's sexual escapades for a lifetime, frankly. There was nothing wrong with a bit of decorum.

The morning they all met to return A-Fu to his father's began pleasantly enough with inane chatter and the servants bringing in a light breakfast as they sat around the table in his and A-Li's private quarters. The trio did indeed seem to be more comfortable around each other than they ever had in all of Zixuan's knowing of their odd 3 pronged relationship and he would have been unequivocally happy to see it if it wasn't for the fact that Zixuan was unable to unsee the intensely smug satisfaction radiating off of Jin Guangyao and unknow why it was there. He now regretted bring able to read his brother so well and was trying to look anywhere else.

But looking at the other 2 who were perfectly courteous and impeccably dressed and even sitting a polite distance apart from A-Yao was somehow just as uncomfortable. But he needed to make an effort. Try to be better about not being distant. Try to make better friends with his (sort of?) brothers-in-law. And so he made the mistake of attempting small talk.

"So, Chifeng-zun, did you...have a good...uh. I mean, your--was your--" he stuttered to a horrified halt, eyes huge.

An innocent enough question under literally any other circumstances. Any other day, asking if their time together was enjoyable would have been fairly innocuous--a vacation! A day trip! A nice dinner! But no! Since he knew exactly the what and why of their watching A-Fu, and at least A-Yao knew that he knew and his wife knew that A-Yao knew that he knew, he tripped over his words and metaphorically fell flat on his face in front of his brother's esteemed partners who also happened to be the leaders of 2 major allied clans he would be working with for the foreseeable future. Clan Leader Nie had stopped mid-bite and was staring at him as if he had suddenly started to overturn tables and scream like a madman.

Jin Zixuan almost wished he had instead, because his face was burning as he sat ramrod straight and helplessly stared back. A-Li beside him had the back of her hand over her mouth and was shaking with intermittent fits of ill contained mirth. Jin Guangyao was staring at him with as well with a fixed, slightly frantic smile, pink creeping up his neck. Clan Leader Lan looked at his lap, mouth working as if he was trying to keep his smile small, eyes closed. The children ignored everything going on and began to argue about whether or not the porridge looked like snot.

Finally, Nie Mingjue raised his eyebrow and looked down at A-Yao next to him with the smallest smirk. "I should think so. I quite enjoyed it."

"Da-ge," A-Yao hissed as he put his hands to his forehead as if to shield his face, red up to the tips of his ears as Jin Zixuan felt he also surely was.

A-Li let out an endearing, helpless little snort next to him and he finally covered his own face, trying to melt away and hide behind the elaborate flowery centerpiece they had on the table. Lan Xichen's measured, if amused voice saved him, saying, "We appreciate you watching A-Fu for us; we had a lovely time." It managed to not be lascivious in any way, as only a Lan could make it but Jin Zixuan was still pretty sure he wanted to be assassinated before he had to face these men at the next Cultivation Conference.

"I'm so glad," he replied in choked whisper as A-Li patted his back.

"What?" Lan Fu demanded from next to Nie Mingjue. "What happened? Why do you all look like that? Did someone say a bad word?"

Only several of them, child, Jin Zixuan moaned in his own head. "Is the food to everyone's liking?" Wonderful A-Li swept in, voice only a little strangled and there was polite murmured appreciation.

"Yeah," A-Ling said in a stage whisper. "Someone definitely said something."

#3zun raise jingyi au #my fic #my stuff #text #little-smartass #3zun #reply #3zun raise jingyi content

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akimmito · 4 years

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Road to Home #11

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

Master List

----

Marie devoted herself to observing her classmates, being the only place she could choose, although she was also observing in her only class outside of school where she shared with other people, which is swordplay, however, she did n't see anyone worthy.

However, as the school year progresses, she begins to befriend two girls: Alix Kubdel and Rose Lavillant (in addition to a relationship I hate you today, but maybe not tomorrow with Chloe. A weird thing, she doesn't even want to think much about that).

And since Master Fu repeats to her every day to trust her instincts, well, she has invited the three girls to join her Judo classes (which is the most normal thing, she would not know how to explain to them why she's learning a technique of Combat designed by a specialized military team, yes, she's not having that conversation... until the time comes.)

With the end of their second year living with Master Fu, the four girls become friends. Of course, with the peculiarities that the clash of personalities entails because: how have a light person, a daughter of the night, a queen bee and an antisystem have been coupled without diverging? Miraculous, Fu would say.

This is how she has come to the exact situation where she must reveal the greatest secret of her life... no, not as dramatic as that. Her biggest secret is Tim, sweet Tim, who is sure he's getting into trouble somewhere other than Gotham because, surely, HE'S TRAINING TO BE A ROBIN. When she sees him, she's going to hit him, not for being Robin but for putting himself in danger. It's funny how she became so attached to a child with whom he only had a relationship for a month and a half.

But that is not the issue there, the issue is that she has brought them together so they can start training with prodigies. She chose her allies and must prepare them. That is her first mission as a future guardian, really, after two years, the imminent death of Master Fu feels painful, hopefully he will see her graduate from school... although she doubts it.

"So, Todd, why so much secrecy? Where we are? "Chloe grimaces as they walk through the building where she lives, which is only inhabited by them.

"My home."

"So many laps around town to come to your house, Marie?" Alix asks incredulously. Well, she hasn't shared much about her life, other than mentioning that she was adopted in Germany by her grandfather.

"I have my reasons." She says cryptically when they reach the door, she opens it immediately and is greeted by the empty place. Better this way, she will be able to talk to them under her own rules.

The girls come in and watch the decor, the Chinese influence is clear all over the place. Marie invites them to sit down while she goes to get some cookies and tea, she has the selected boxes ready and will put them on the table too. Doing it in those moments will allow the training sessions to be more varied, she will not launch anyone into any battle just knowing Judo, they need to develop combat styles in conjunction with the weapons of each Miraculous, especially those less orthodox like yo-yo or the spinning top, who came up with it?

"I have gathered you here to discuss something important."

"Will you enroll us in a sect? I knew you were part of a sect! "Alix cheers and giggles, Rose just hides a giggle and Chloe looks at her unimpressed.

“Todd. I'm not missing my afternoon spa just for tea and cookies. "

"Sure…" Marie just sighs and settles, again, how did she come to a cordial relationship with Chloe Bourgeois when the first few months narrowly didn't punch each other? Well, it only remains to go with the flow and when everything ends up going into Arkham because she went crazy. "What do you think of being heroes?"

"Heroes? Something like Superman? "Alix questions intrigued.

"That would be incredible! Can you imagine the attention we would receive? ”Chloe seems to have stars in her eyes at the idea, Marie winces.

"She was talking more about fighting and saving people."

"Why, Marie?" Rose speaks for the first time, curious about the direction of the conversation.

"At some point in the next few years, a villain will appear in Paris and heroes will be needed to fight him. A special type of hero, in the best Maho Shoujo style.

"The anime genre?" Alix seems doubtful, so Marie takes out the boxes and opens them one by one revealing the chosen Kwami.

Tikki, Pollen and Trixx appear in front of the three girls.

"Oh God!" Alix jumps back at the sight of the three creatures and is more exalted when she sees a fourth emerge from Marie's jacket. "What are they?"

"Kwami, do you want to hear a story?"

And so she begins to explain about the Kwami, about the lost prodigies and about their future role, if they accept, of course. The four girls remain silent, Marie waits patiently for them to decide, if they refuse, she begins to review the different spells that she can use to erase their memory and pretend that the meeting never happened.

"Is that why you invited us to Judo, Todd?"

"Yes."

"Amazing, but we are children. "

"I am aware, but I do not trust adults and that is why I tell them in time. We will prepare, we will be as amazing as Wonder Woman."

"You talked me into Wonder Woman, Marie." Alix smirks, Marie has never done anything she didn't plan to, so she will trust her and help her. The other option is for the girl to do it all by herself and she would be a very bad friend if she allowed it, total, they just have to fight a villain at some point in the future and they will be ready.

"I don't like violence, but if someone wants to hurt people, count on me." Rose murmurs with some doubt, but with clear intentions.

"Todd, you've earned a new level of respect. Do I have to save my identity?

"Yes, no one should know who we are. Start thinking of names. ”Marie smiles and proceeds to give the respective jewels. "Rose Lavillant, I give you the Miraculous of the Ladybug, it gives you the power of creation and to purify evil. "

Rose takes the box that she offers and smiles at the stained Kwami, who spins around her and greets with joy for the choice of Marie, a pure and innocent soul with a lot of creative potential, she just needs to teach him to exploit him to better synchronize with his powers . Since Marie was a soul of creation born in a bad luck well, she can no longer synchronize with the powers of the ladybug and became a perfect pair for Plagg, the other side of the coin.

"Alix Kubdel, I grant you the Miraculous of the Fox, he gives you the power of illusion."

The girl looks curiously at the little fox, who analyzes her head-on and soon the two of them are colliding the five as if they had read the mind. They both thought the same thing: it will be fun.

“Chloe Bourgeois, as a worthy queen, I grant you the Miraculous of the Bee, she grants you the power of subjection. "

Chloe marvels when the little bee bows to her, much to her ego? Well, Marie will have to get used to it.

"I'm the bearer of the Miraculous of the Black Cat, grant the power of destruction."

"A cat? Lovely. "

"I'm not adorable, girl, I'm a god."

"Plagg." Tikki says.

"What? It's the true. "The black Kwami goes to the kitchen leaving them in the living room.

"Well, Pollen likes honey." Chloe nods, agreeing to let Pollen lie on her head, already thinking about how she will use the comb to include it in her style. "Trixx loves carrots. ”Alix nods, picking up the necklace and putting it on, thinking it's too flashy to just wearing it on her clothes. "Tikki is a fan of sweets, especially cookies, he really liked those at the Dupain-Cheng bakery near the school. "

"I love those cookies, too!" Rose shines for having an excuse to buy daily, she will be able to share a lot with her new friend.

So they spend the whole afternoon refining the details and agreeing on what they will do to improve in combat, leaving them to decide the style they want to follow. In addition to explaining the weapons and her recommendations.

-----

Well, here it's after so long. I have actually momentarily paused the writing of this fic, but I intend to follow it soon.

Tag list: @tori-mmm

#timinette #timari #maribat

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iffyswriting · 5 years

Text

Neighbors (Jay Park)

Paring: Jay Park x Black!OC

Genre: Smut, just straight up smut.

Summary: There are ways to compromise with an annoying neighbor.

Word Count: 2064

Note: This is my first imagine on this account, yay!

Waking up out of her sleep, there were loud bumps on the other side of Tiana's wall. Groggily, rubbing the sleep that creased her eyes her initial confusion soon turned into anger when the noise continued, the banging hurting her ears.

She threw her head back onto her pillow, pushing the sides to her ears hoping they would drown it out but to no use. Tiana got out of bed grumbling with irritation as she slid her feet into her slippers, throwing her loose silk robe over her body.

With her hand in a tight fist, she knocked on the door of the offender. Tapping her feet annoyance as the minutes passed, finally the door opened and an attractive man covered in sweat and tattoos, leaned against the frame, his boxers clearly looking hastily thrown on as they hung from his waist, leaving little to no imagination.

"Can I help you?" He licked his plump lips as he spoke and Tiana tried her hardest not to eye his body. She had come there for business and she would state her problem with enough dignity to not let her eyes wander.

"You can actually. You realize it's 2:00 at night and some of us have fucking work in the morning. It'd be appreciated if you could keep it down." Tiana barked heading straight for the point, her arms crossed over her perky bosom.

"I can try and do that but I won't make any promises," Jay responded shrugging his shoulders in such a nonchalant way Tiana was tempted to punch him. She didn't dare look him in his eyes and since she couldn't look upward her only option was the opposite direction, which resulted in her seeing some very interesting developments. "Hey uh, I know I'm cute or whatever but don't think you should keep up eye contact when you're having a conversation with someone?" His tone was teasing and smug, Tiana's fists clenching as the words rolled off his tongue.

"Yeah, well I'll try not to let the landlord know about you being so inconsiderate. Fucking prick." Tiana spoke her ears beginning to burn. Didn't she just say she wouldn't let her eyes wander? She never ever could keep her word. Finishing her piece, she flipped him off and slammed her door behind her fuming slightly.

Things didn't get much better between the neighbors. Jay persisted in the constant noise making and Tia made it known that she wasn't here for it, often slamming her fist on his door or catching him in the morning to work to personally curse him out. Her threats to tell the landlord seemed empty and she would never ever admit that sometimes she wished she was in his bed causing all the noise. Every once and a while Jay would chill out, trying to show he wanted to make amends with Tiana but the girl flipped his endeavors right back in his face constantly reminding him of before.

The two communicated with petty insults and minor arguing, other tenants calling them the married couple who lived in separate rooms. They'd both scoff at the nickname, stating that "I couldn't be with someone so whorish." "I couldn't be with someone so stuck-up." More arguments would come from their mean words and the arguments would constantly be thick with tension.

"Aw, do you miss me so much you have to follow me everywhere? I'm flattered but I'd prefer if I could get just a little breathing room to wash my clothes." Jay spoke strolling into the laundry room, where Tiana happened to be.

"You actually do your own laundry? At least you aren't an incompetent asshole." Tiana offered him a fake smile, unamusing to Jay.

"I do more than just my laundry." He spoke with a wink.

"I'm sorry, but if you're insinuating what I think you are, I'm not interested in a guy who's constantly literally and figuratively drowning his sorrows in pussy," Tiana confessed with a sarcastically sweet shrug taking satisfaction in the twisted up face, Jay made.

"Ohhh that's clever, you got any more insults other then me being a slut?" His stupid smirk never left his face, it's presence agitating even more.

"I mean." Tiana sounded out, slowly seeing that she had to get to his level of comprehension.

"Tia-” He started off, Tiana raising one of her hands to automatically cut him off.

"Don't call me Tia." Tiana responded with an irritated scoff, stuffing her clothes into the washing machine.

"Like I said, Tia-" He repeated once more, Tiana slamming down the top of the washing machine as she whipped towards Jay with an agitated glare.

“All of this disrespect you keep throwing my way, I don’t take lightly so you need to find some fucking chill.”

“You can talk to me in any way you want and treat me like shit but you can’t take it back?”

“I’ve only given you the energy you’ve given me, stop acting surprised.”

“Your hypocrisy is barking in volumes!" Jay answered with a humorless laugh, putting his basket on the floor.

“Hypocrisy!? I feel like the pot is calling the kettle black right now." Tia argued in return her back facing Jay as she turned the button to warm on the washing machine.

"So you know what you’re doing is wrong but you keep doing it?" Jay asked stepping closer to her making Tia lean against the machine for support.

"Huh?" Tia choked out.

"Don't fucking huh me. I'm sick of your mouth, I try and bring the noise down be cordial but you stay on my fucking neck, continuing to be fucking rude. What do you want me to fuck you or something?" His rant ended and Tiana's mouth had drawn closed into a line unable to answer his claims.

That dangerous smirk replaced the frown on his face, his eyes becoming hooded with lust as he looked down at her, boring into her dark brown eyes. Gulping Tiana, pulled up her t-shirt using it as a makeshift fan, reveling in how hot everything was beginning to feel all of a sudden, how claustrophobic she felt.

Inching towards the woman with a new objective in mind Jay tilted her head upward in a swift motion, Tiana taking the hint, immediately smashing her lips into his her hands twisting themselves in the confines of his white tank top.

As things began to escalate, the tension growing in the room, Jay roughly pushed Tiana into the cool metal making her gently gasp into his mouth. Her free hand, that wasn't resting on the back of his neck, slithered down to his jeans rubbing the fabric teasingly. His fingers pressed hard on her hips, easily plopping her on top of the washing machine

"Is this going to make you lose that fucking attitude?" He grunted, snatching at her black leggings tugging them down roughly. With ease, he picked her up and plopped her on top of the tool, his fingers would only brush the front of her panties, going no further than a boundary he set.

"Let's see how well you impress me. Then I’ll think about it." Feeling bold- Tiana, caressed the bulge in his shorts, looking him straight into his eyes. His fingers hooked onto her panties, slipping them off with ease.

Every time he teasingly touched her throbbing clit, her body would shiver and she would attempt to buck back into him hoping a finger or some sort would slip in her efforts futile as she was left provoked with no relief in the end.

“If you’re just going to tease me I might as well get the fu-” She was interrupted from finishing as two thick fingers plunged deep inside of her. She mugged at him and his amused smirk, her frown opening into a large moan as he twisted the fingers inside of her, finger fucking her fast. Before she came, Tiana pulled his fingers out of her, they were dripping with her essence.

“You forget whose pace we’re going at.” She stated simply out of breath, the rush of euphoria on the tip of her tongue.

Tia smacked his hand away from finishing, unbuttoning his pants. She slithered her hand inside of his boxers, rubbing at his erection. Her thumb swiped over his pink tip, his shallow breath pleasing her.

She brought her hand up and down at a rapid unforgiving pace, jacking him off with a devious look. Dribblets of his cum flew onto her hand, his groans trailing into her ear.

They collectively moaned together as he slipped in, Tiana wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck to actively bring him in closer. She caught his lips, immediately slipping her tongue in as he moved forward.

His thrusts were filled with passion as all the pent-up frustration he had for the girl was taken out on her pussy. Jay fucked her roughly, slamming her against the washing machine with force.

“If we’re going to fuck on a washing machine, let’s make it fun.” The first wash cycle was turned on as the machine began to vibrate, causing jolts to flow through both of them

He flipped her body over pressing her into the washing machine as they began to fuck Doggystyle, unknowingly denting in the machinery.

Tiana’s chest heaved up and down as she met him each time he pounded into her, throwing her ass back. He stopped for a moment letting his entire length sit inside of her before sliding out and ramming back into her rocking her forward.

"Oh fuckkkk-" Tiana moaned out, crossing her ankles together as her thighs slapped into the cold metal, Jay's relentless strokes digging her out in the most pleasurable way. Tiana rested her head on the top of washing-machine trying to muffle the whimpers that echoed from her mouth. Jay's hand wrapped around her throat pulling her backward so the whimper she released could be heard clearly.

"No, I want to hear from you. This is loud enough right?" He growled into her ear slamming into her with such precision, Tia's soul was close to escaping her body. He kissed the side of her face, a groan seeping out of him as his dick twitched inside her walls.

“Oh Daddy, I’m about to cum!” She whimpered, her walls clenching and releasing around him as the pressure in her stomach built up, the neverending pleasure overwhelming.

Tiana tried to move away from Jay as her orgasm soared through her body but he pulled her back, she tightened her walls milking him well. Tiana purred as she came, the sweat that had formed on her brow slipping towards her breast.

His strokes became increasingly sloppy, as Tia helped him meet his own end grinding slower on his dick, popping her butt as she maneuvered, Jay let out a throaty moan.

Tiana slipped off of him getting straight on her knees. She held his manhood in her hand, jerking it a bit as his cum splattered across her face, staining the top of her sports bra. She gave a devilishly satisfied smile, his nut dripping down her lip, as she stuck out her tongue to give it a taste.

“You owe me some washing powder.” She said jokingly, licking her lips of his kids.

After what happened in the laundry room, things changed. Noise no longer came from Jay's room anymore and with no reason to keep fussing nor a reason to talk to him, Tiana could only look from afar too afraid to speak.

"We ever gonna talk about- what we did?" Jay finally asked, breaking the game of avoiding they had been playing.

“Is there anything really to talk about?” Tiana replied, unable to look at him in the eye. He took her hand into his own, shrugging his shoulders as he began to speak.

“I just thought we could-” “Hi, Mrs. Garrison!" Tiana spoke to their elderly neighbor, interrupting Jay from finishing. She wasn't sure where he was going with his words, and fear etched into her heart, nervous about what he would say.

"Hello, baby!" The sweet woman responded before turning towards Tiana."I just wanted to mention that you shouldn't use the washing machine for a while. Someone dented the damn thing in and it's been working funny ever since. I'm guessing it was that delinquent Rodney who did it but Jermaine's cheap-ass ain't gonna find the culprit."

“Is that so?” Tiana glanced at Jay, who had a soft blush on his cheeks. Looking at each other knowingly, they snickered quietly to themselves an inside joke being born.

#jay park smut #jay park #smut #khiphop #ambw #thebabymama

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sebbies · 5 years

Text

chances

a/n: i haven’t written anything in literally four months so i’m sorry if this is kind of jumbled. word count: 2.826 masterlist

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Y/N and Jacob Greene At the Cathedral of Hope On December 7th, 2018

No. Bucky blinked at the words on the light pink coloured rectangle of paper until they no longer seemed to be real. You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. To him this was yet another dull and doomed relationship in your continuous string of poor choices. He still couldn’t understand how he was so oblivious to the best thing that ever happened to him and now since you’re no longer standing in front of him, he realises how dumb he was.

He plopped down on the stool next to the kitchen island, throwing the card haphazardly across the top. The groan that left him came from deep within and he couldn’t help but let a few curse words slip through his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Bucky glanced back at the card and slid it towards him. Huh? He scoffed as he analysed the details of the invitation. There had been two large coneflowers intertwined with each other atop the wording. She hates coneflowers. The font was rather obnoxious, barely readable. Pretentious. He held the card up and wiggled it in the air, paper is thick but inexpensive, he deducted, couldn’t even splurge on the paper. The church name, he had seen it somewhere by the financial district which meant it was near his work. Minimal time off work needed, with a girl like that? Everything else about the invitation was generic and disdainfully common.

The lack of a name on the envelope would usually make it hard to discern who the invitation was for, but since he knew Steve and Peggy has sent in their RSVP a month before, it was quite clear it wasn’t for them. Bucky crumpled the card in his fist and threw the balled up paper across the kitchen and rested his warm forehead against the palms of his clammy hands. His stomach began to churn making him wonder if that sandwich he had earlier was a mistake as it felt like a rock in his gut.

Months, Bucky grumbled to himself, five literal months of dating. Why is she rushing things? It seemed that like everyone else deemed it okay for Y/N to get married to Jacob. Jacob Greene, Bucky muttered, does she know that he’s been previously married? Or that he lies about trying to quit smoking. Is she really fine with the long work hours that he has?

Bucky closed his eyes and banged his head against the counter, his left hand curling into a hard fist that the electronics in his arm begins to whir. He wished he hadn’t tossed the invitation out of reach. The thought of tearing the paper into confetti and returning it to sender gave him immense satisfaction.

Bucky was too lost in his thought to hear his roommate Steve open the apartment door. It was only when Steve placed a hand on his shoulder did his body stutter in shock.

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve said as he moved away from his friend to the other side of the counter, “what’s got you so-,” Steve had cut himself off when he saw a familiar crumpled up ball at the foot of the fridge. A sly smile appeared. Bucky threw Steve a dirty look and abruptly stood up from his place at the island before he tossed himself onto the sofa with crossed arms over his eyes.

“Your aim still sucks,” Steve chided.

“You still suck,” Bucky responded childishly and Steve couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh when he saw his friend roll over and hug the pillow tighter to chis chest.

“Oh, for fu..” Steve sighed as he scooped the paper off the floor. He smoothed it on the counter top and scanned over the card curiously. Steve carried the paper with him to his reclining chair by the sofa.

“Oh! Peggy’s been talking about this forever now. I think it’s gonna be a small ceremony, just a few friends and family or something.” There was a long pause, “not much notice though,” Steve continued, “but you know, good for Y/N. Jacob is a good guy.”

Bucky scoffed and rolled over furiously before he sat up. “Jacob is an idiot. Jacob couldn’t even understand the Sokovian Accords even after the press covered it last year! Jacob never goes to Y/N’s work, something about being nervous around Avengers. How is he going to stand being married to someone who works with them!”

“Maybe Y/N understands that talking about her work and superheroes isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Most people aren’t interested in the death and danger we face,” Steve explained with a smile. “But she is attractive,” that earns Steve a glare, “and Jacob says he doesn’t mind her having a weird job since she’s pretty. And she’ll be a good mom when they start a family; though I think she might stop working in the lab, you know the chemicals and everything aren’t safe for pregnancies.”

Bucky jumped of the couch and stormed toward his bedroom.

“Where ya going, Buck?” If Bucky wasn’t to angry he would have noticed that Steve’s voice was casual and he could hear his lips being curled upward. Steve placed the wrinkled invitation on the coffee table in front of him and followed Bucky.

“As if I don’t know everything there is fucking know about Y/N,” Bucky growled as he rushed around his room, dressing himself hurriedly. “Pretty,” Bucky scoffed, “that’s so fucking useful, but ‘don’t talk about your day at work, baby, or I may faint.’ Fuckin’ asshat. Doesn’t even know she hates coneflowers.” He stomped his feet into his shoes, ignoring how loose they felt without the laces being securely tied.

“Something wrong?” Steve asked as he leaned against Bucky’s doorframe.

“Nope. Just gonna run some errands. Shop for food, inform Stark about the upgrade, talk that woman out of marrying a fool who will take her from- the Avengers.”

“You gonna be out long?”

“Don’t wait up,” Bucky paused at his coat rack, “it’s Monday, she’ll be at Josie's.” He confirmed to himself before grabbing his coat and stepping past Steve.

“From the Avengers. Is that all?” Steve questioned as he followed his friend through the apartment, “oh by the way, she’s not at Josie’s”

“What?” Bucky stopped in his tracks and turned to face his friend, missing the smirk that left his face.

“It’s girls night. Like I said, not much notice for this wedding ordeal. I just dropped Peggy off at Olive or Twist. If you hurry you might-,”

Bucky was already out the door before Steve could finish his sentence.

“Right,” Steve murmured and jogged over to the window and watched Bucky with great amusement as he jumped into a cab. Steve pulled out his cellphone and quickly typed out a warning to his girlfriend, who was at the moment sitting on a stool besides a tipsy Y/N.

Bucky didn’t make small talk with the cab driver, instead he thought about when he first met Y/N almost a year ago. He quickly found out that the lab at the Stark tower was like her second home. She was able to be with the minds like Bruce Banner, Helen Cho and Tony Stark himself who allowed her to get lost in her thoughts.

Her lab was an extension of the Medbay and she was able to navigate the narrow hallways and sharp corners with ease. It was her lab, which was also his lab and his Medbay; seeing how he had the metal arm that needed fixing.

And sure, other people technically had access, but as far as he saw it, they were intruders. No one else belonged there.

Things can’t just change, Bucky thought to himself as he watched the lights of the city blur through the cab window.

Put everything on the line to help you. When everyone hated you, she saw something worth loving.

Bucky had the urge to scream but resorted to curling his hands into tight fists in his lap.

Some rock tune was playing through the bar’s speakers when Bucky arrived at Oliver or Twist. He scanned the crowd and almost immediately he found Y/N and Peggy sitting at the far end of the bar top, conversing over elaborate cocktail glasses that seemed to hold an abnormal amount of alcohol. For a hot second, Bucky could have sworn that Peggy’s eyes glanced at him but she continued chatting with Y/N without acknowledging him.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. Something was off. He looked around before looking back at the ladies but couldn’t pinpoint that strange feeling. He strutted through the crowd, pushing people aside, earning dark looks but he didn’t stop until her was behind Y/N.

He leaned in close, “I need to talk to you,” he practically whispered into her ear.

“Bucky!” Y/N turned around and beamed at him. Her eyes were shining in the light and her cheeks had a noticeable colour to them, telling him she was in this overly crowded bar for quite some time.

“What are you doing here?” She turned back to face her friend, “Pegs, look who it is!”

“Hello Bucky,” Peggy said ever so politely, finishing off with a sweet smile that held some kind of mischief behind them, “Surprised to see you here. Metal arm emergency, I suppose. Can’t it wait? We have quite the evening planned.”

Bucky ignored her and began the speech he had mapped out on the driver over. “You can’t marry Jacob.”

Y/N shot a confused look at Peggy, who just shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “Buck, I-,”

In hindsight, he should have let her finish her sentence, but he had too many emotions and thoughts that needed to be heard, so once he opened his mouth; the rush of words poured out and he couldn’t stop. “Look, I get it. He’s an attractive dude who lies about his smoking habits and his long working hours will leave little time for family and the development of your own personal goals. Also, your potential spouse should not feel intimated by your career and with the people you work with. And with the lack of intelligence on his part, he wouldn’t be able to help you further your career or help you emotionally. He’s boring and probably wouldn’t even notice that New York is being attacked even if he sees an alien with his own eyes.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open and her eyes were wide in shock. Peggy had to hide her smile behind her glass, keeping the straw in her mouth.

“You have to stay with the Avengers. They need you because you’re the best of the best. Better than Banner and way better than Stark. They need you but most importantly, I need you. Not only because you’re the only one who can fix my arm, but you’re the only one who has really stood by my side through everything. All the highs and all the lows have one thing in common and that’s you. You were always there for me and I want to be always there for you. Forever.”

There was an overgrown silence between the three people at the bar. Bucky looked from Y/N to Peggy, who just shrugged her shoulders. He looked at Y/N who still wore the same shocked expression.

“Say something, please,” Bucky begged.

“Haven’t given her much of a chance, have you,” Peggy remarked, sipping her drink. She sucked on the orange slice that used to hang on the rim of her glass.

“Trying to convince a woman to dump her fiancé, is something I didn’t expect from you,” she smirked, “coming all the way down here to stop Y/N from getting married, one might think you’re jealous.”

“Wait, this is..,” Y/N laughed before coughing into her hands, “why do you care who I date or marry for that matter?”

Bucky ran his left hand through his hair before gently running the cool metal over his face.

“You can’t marry him because I know you love me and even though it took me some time, I love you.” There was a flash image of the future of just him and her, in their shared apartment living a shared life. “You saved me. You belong with him. Not someone who doesn’t value you or thinks you’re only pretty.”

“You-you think I’m pretty?” Y/N whispered. A dopey smile formed on Bucky’s face when he saw her face.

“Yes. I think you’re beyond beautiful. I’ve always thought that.” Bucky watched as her fingers began to play with the hem of her dress. Great, she’s nervous, Bucky thought. Y/N lifted her drink to her mouth before taking a rather large sip, making Bucky wince. Once she finished her sip, she put the glass down on the bar behind her.

“I know you don’t want to marry him.”

Y/N tilted her head as she faced Bucky, a smile creeping onto her face. Peggy shook her head.

“Care to explain?”

“You-you’re not wearing your ring,” Bucky stated before taking hold of Y/N’s hands, cradling her fingers in his grasp. He smoothed his thumbs over her knuckles.

“No ring,” he said as he lifted her left hand up, “engaged women always wear their rings. It’s like they want to show off the expensive piece of jewellery, but you, you haven’t been wearing it.”

Bucky ignored Peggy’s presence and he stepped closer to Y/N, letting go of her hands and instead cupped her cheeks, tipping her face up to him.

“Did you mean it? About me, belonging with you?” Y/N’s voice was soft and quite and filled with hope.

Part of Bucky wanted to build his walls up again and secure himself, but this was Y/N in front of him. He couldn’t bring himself to push her out anymore.

“Yes,” he said confidently, “I need you. You belong with me and I belong with you. Always.” In the dim light of the crowded bar, Bucky Barnes kissed Y/N senseless until he could feel not only Peggy but the bartender stare pointedly.

When he finally pulled his lips away from hers, a smug grin appeared on her face. “Bucky, I’m not engaged.”

“Not anymore I hope,” he said as he slid his hand around her neck and kissed the side of her face.

“No,” she laughed, pushing him away from her slightly, “I never was.” Bucky looked at her confused.

“I don’t know why you thought that. Pegs and I just came out for drinks for our regular girls night. We said we would meet Nat and Wanda here but I guess they bailed. Jacob and I broke up last week.” Y/N looked at Peggy with a giant smile who just winked at Bucky.

“Wait, what?”

“Jacob got a job offer in DC and honestly,” Y/N shrugged, “I didn’t want to leave New York. My job is here, so are my friends and my life. I didn’t really see what the point was in me moving with him if I didn’t see the relationship going anywhere. Jacob’s a nice guy, but boring and a bit strange that he doesn’t find the Avengers interesting.”

Not engaged…But then..

Bucky’s mind went back to the wedding invitation he had looked at a little more than an hour ago. The details still so fresh in his mind.

Oh, that son of a…

“Hey!” Peggy yelled suddenly. She stood up and waved towards the door. A tuff of blonde hair could bee seen making its way through the cluster of people.

“Sorry I’m late. Apparently it’s hard to get a taxi in New York City, who knew?” Steve hugged his girlfriend and kissed her briefly.

“So, did I miss anything?” He smiled broadly at Bucky and Y/N’s joined hands.

“Didn’t realise your new hobby was playing with wedding stationery.” Bucky held onto her hand a little tighter.

“Well, you’ve been kind of an idiot when it comes to recognising your feelings for Y/N, and Peggy has quite a lot of sample invites left over,” Steve grinned.

“Seemed like a shame to let them all go to waste.”

“Left over?” Bucky questioned.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you,” Peggy exclaimed, straightening up in her stool, “We’re in engaged!” She extended her left hand. Y/N immediately grabbed it and pulled it closer to her.

“Is this the reason for girls night?”

“One of them,” Peggy smirked, melting into Steve’s side as he slung an arm around her shoulders.

“I should’ve known. Coneflowers on the invitations…disgusting,” Bucky teased.

Y/N cringed, “Ugh, I hate coneflowers.”

Bucky looked down at Y/N with a smile on his face, “I know,” he said a little too proudly.

tags: @bucky-plums-barnes (marriage monday?) @httpmcrvel @ashley-the-mermaid-unicorn @coal000 @sebashtiansatan @softhairbarnes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #mywords

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q--uee--n · 5 years

Text

So, here’s Part 1 of my shamelessly pandering, fluffy Post-Zero Requiem headcanons/notes because I just want everyone to be happy and content and I don’t care how unrealistic some of these are. fuck

(Note: the following 999.9% disregards Re;surrection and falls in line with the events of the original series.)

Suzaku (Zero)

• at first throws himself into being Zero and protecting Nunnally, not at all thinking he deserves anything but the misery that’s been placed upon him.

• mistakingly believes Nunnally hates him for murdering her brother. She ultimately sets him straight, and though they’re fairly close, there are still moments where Suzaku’s guilt becomes an obstacle to their relationship.

• for the first few months, he is cold and stoic as Zero, but as time passes and he grows into the role, he begins to soften. Still, his Zero is relatively distant and mute compared to Lelouch’s grand, theatrical version.

• misses the hell out of Euphemia and Lelouch (even if his relationship with the latter was more complex than a Rubik's Cube) but, over time, slowly reconciles with their deaths. Slowly especially applies to Euphy’s case. It took a while, but he eventually limits his visits to Euphy’s memorial from once every two weeks to once a month to once every other month to once a year (in the distant future).

• formally reconnects with Kaguya after she brusquely informs him that she’s aware of his identity. She manages to swindle him into having tea with her. Every week. It’s at one of these meetings where he breaks down and apologizes for all the pain he’s caused her, but she reassures him that she’s just happy they’re together again. They often simultaneously laugh and gag at the fact that they used to be engaged, and Suzaku becomes so attached to her, Kaguya’s guard detail starts to become suspicious of his intentions.

• on the subject of his relationships, he, against all odds, becomes close to C.C. and even closer to Kallen. He and C.C. have a weird understanding based on their love for Lelouch, and he bonds with Kallen (once she maneuvers around her own issues) over their mutual painful experiences, which is where they find common ground.

• Gino discovers his identity by accident. Milly does so on purpose. Both are rather bizarre, cautionary tales, but as a result of them, Zero’s personal associates are up by two.

• ironically has a large following among small children, who are at the receiving end of his softest interactions with the public. Mothers everywhere adore him just for that. As do stores that make the most profit selling Zero birthday cakes.

• unironically has a large following among horny young adults. Is the topic of a popular tabloid, Zero Weekly, which mostly speculates about his sex life and what he looks like underneath the mask. He’s scandalized by the magazine, as are Kallen and Nunnally, but C.C. and Kaguya love it.

• utilizes multiple disguises, in part because Kallen refuses to be seen in a public setting with him while he’s Zero for a second time and the rest is because Nunnally just likes putting together outfits for him.

• in the little free time he has, his hobbies consist of feeding the stray cats he’s accumulated over the years, reading poetry (it reminds him of Lelouch and a kinder time when they were friends), and watching the ridiculously bad American soap operas he swears he doesn’t watch. Their content should make bad memories surface, but they’re just so horribly acted, the effect falls flat.

• only after years of it being drilled into his head, he eventually accepts that he doesn’t have to be alone if he doesn’t want to and that the whole Zero thing doesn’t have to be completely miserable.

• still healing from, well, everything but has acquired a loyal support base in the few friends he has, and though he still doesn’t quite think he deserves any happiness he’s found, he’s in too deep to reject it (and there’s no way in hell that anyone will let him).

• cries the first time someone says they love him, halfway out of disbelief because he doesn’t think he’s worthy of anyone’s love and halfway out of relief because he’d never imagined there’d come a day where the phrase was directed at him again.

C.C.

• hangs around after Lelouch’s death because she can, not because she, god forbid, cares about the people in her life. Nope. Not at all, thank you very much.

• lives in Suzaku’s quarters in the palace until he gets so frustrated by the pizza boxes piling up in his room that he asks Nunnally to give her her own space. C.C. is more than happy to move when she learns the room is Cheese-kun-themed.

• formally befriends Kallen after the realization that they’re both assholes with trust issues. They have bi-monthly girls’ nights of epic proportions, ones that usually culminate in a single whopping bad decision.

• is both intrigued and gobsmacked by the fact that Suzaku is still so cordial to her despite the circumstances and the things she puts him through daily. He’s the opposite of Lelouch in every way, but that’s what draws her to him the most.

• may or may not be attracted to Suzaku. It’s hard to tell.

• is online friends with Milly. Neither is aware of the identity of the other, but they’re nonetheless a powerful force that troll the internet with spam and shitposting.

• no one knows her real name. Except for Kaguya, of all people, and no one knows how or when or why they became close enough to be on first names basis, and it just doesn’t make sense at all, to the point where Kallen loses sleep at night thinking about it.

• once recounted the time Benjamin Franklin told her off to Suzaku after he returned from a particularly despondent assignment. Afterward, they stayed up eating pizza and reminiscing over fond memories they had of Lelouch, which allowed Suzaku to see a kinder, more vulnerable side of C.C. for the first time. It also marked the beginning of their weekly sleepovers, though they don’t refer to them as such.

• sometimes goes riding with Nunnally on weekends. The younger girl reminds her of her brother, and like his, Nunnally’s heart is pure and kind. She gives C.C. a warm feeling similar to the one she got from Lelouch.

• is constantly traveling and moving about but always returns to Nunnally and Suzaku’s side at their residence in Japan.

• is well aware of the fact that everyone she’s come to accept as friends will die while she’ll remain living. This is her biggest point of contention, and she contemplates leaving more often than not, but she stays because she can’t leave.

• "I said that Geass was the power of the king which would condemn you to a life of solitude. I think, maybe, that's not quite correct. Right, Lelouch?"

• has stopped accumulating experience and started living.

Kallen

• finishes her last year of high school and, soon thereafter, becomes a full-time college student. Focusing on her education, she takes time off the Black Knights but still works as a reserve officer and is never without the key to her beloved Knightmare Frame. Because just in case, and Rakshata is always updating the Guren.

• resented Zerozaku for months following the Requiem, even though she knew everything that happened was all according to Lelouch’s plan. She overcomes her negative feelings after coming across Suzaku at Euphemia’s grave and realizing he knows the pain she’s suffering. She finds that maybe they aren’t as different as she thought.

• proves vital in helping Suzaku heal and vice versa. They’re both disasters, and they’re opposite in every sense of the word, but all that means is that they never manage to stunt each other, even when they just can’t understand each other.

• after they become friends, C.C. is her second most contacted person. Milly is her first because that woman cannot be trusted.

• begins a charity in her brother Naoto’s name with the help of her mother. The charity is dedicated to reuniting families displaced by the war.

• discovers she has an extremely high alcohol tolerance once she’s of age and could outdrink anyone at any time (”yes, Tamaki that also applies to you. ...Please, Ohgi’s son has higher tolerance than you”) but generally doesn’t fuck with alcohol because she doesn’t like the idea of becoming dependent on it. She makes enough bad decisions on her own, thanks.

• is, like various other members of the original Order of the Black Nights, a hero of the rebellion and a bona fide celebrity, though she still has to work to support herself and her mother and is a tad bitter about that. Especially considering she has all the other “privileges” of celebrity such as sporadic street interviews while she’s on her commute to work.

• because of that one time she danced with Zero at that one party, everyone assumes they’re together, and the media plays it up. She can’t count the number of times she’s had to call in to news stations falsely referring to her as “Zero’s paramour”.

• “True or false? Are you involved with Zero?” “...Involved with–I’m not–who said–” “Ah. You hesitated. Does that confirm our suspicions?” “I didn’t hesitate because that shouldn’t have been a question” “Well, a source close to you informed us of the fact that–” “Source? What source–?” *cue the moment she realizes that the source is C.C. Or Milly. Or both.

• Gino is the source.

• sleeps over at the palace at Nunnally’s invitation when her mother isn’t home and she’s feeling particularly lonely, sometimes sandwiched between C.C. and Suzaku in his room but the bed is more than large enough. It’s weird but it’s comfortable and it makes her feel that much more secure.

• grows out her hair. By the time she’s twenty-two, it’s almost as long as C.C.’s.

• still loves Lelouch with all her heart, but does eventually become open to pursuing a relationship. (”Gino wants to go out with you, doesn’t he? Why don’t you just say yes?” “Just because I said I was open to dating doesn’t mean I want to date Gino, C.C.” “I suppose you’re right. Although that could be because you want to fu–” “One more word out of you and I’ll put Cheese-kun in the shredder.”)

• changes her legal surname to “Kozuki”.

#code geass #code geass: hangyaku no lelouch #code geass r2 #kururugi suzaku #zerozaku #c.c. (code geass)#kallen stadtfeld #kallen kozuki #headcanons #my notes #you don't have to take this post seriously #but i do

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scatcatz · 6 years

Text

Affection by Decimals

Chapter 2 - Fuzzy Paws and Fuzzy Thoughts

Summary: Doing something nice for Connor. Lots of fluff.

"So, was the aquarium what you hoped it would be?" Connor asked as he tried flipping the stamped coin they got from the machine commemorating their visit.

"Yeah, it was beautiful. They changed it dramatically since I was last here but I'm glad they still have the piranha tank. They are terrifying little critters."

"They are ‘opportunistic carnivores’."

"Think you could swim across a river before they could eat you?" He was never tired of her bizarre hypothetical questions.

"Yes, for multiple reasons. First, they don’t attack large animals unless provoked. Second, my blood wouldn’t trigger a feeding frenzy like yours would. Third, their teeth wouldn't be able to penetrate past my hard shell. I would survive. What you should really be asking about is the electric eel. I wouldn't come back from that the same person."

She made a audible disgusted noise. He placed his new coin in his coat as they got into the taxi. She set up a destination he wasn't familiar with and then sat along side him.

"Are we stopping somewhere to eat?" It was about that time she would begin to crave food.

"Sort of. I have a surprise for you." Her bright smile bordered on playful. "Turn off your GPS. I don't want you spoiling it for yourself." She was lightly bouncing in her seat which got him extremely curious.

"That’s fine, I can still figure it out."

"No! Let it be a surprise! You're not solving crimes tonight just enjoy it."

"Most stores will be closed at this time during the weekend..."

"Hey!" Her finger pointed at him but he didn't care.

"You mentioned food and the block we are going to had a strip of restaurants."

"Connor, I wanted to do something special for you since you're always taking me to places I like." The android was on a mission now. His brain processed thousands of possibilities and it was exciting to challenge his abilities in a low stress environment. He could figure it out given enough time. He had seven minutes to pin a location.

"Connor, how many teeth do piranhas have?" Connor tilted his head. He felt inclined to respond.

Data load paused... New request loaded.

"Depending on species, around 25 teeth." She hummed back nodding her head.

Processing area data...

"Well, some of them are vegetarian. Do they have teeth too?" He noticed her trying to hide a smile again.

Data processing paused... New request loaded.

"Yes."

Filtering current availability of stores...

"How strong is their bite?" Three times is a pattern.

"You're not going stop me from deducing where we’re going." But he really couldn't leave her question unresolved even if it was a passing interest.

Filter paused... New request loaded.

"A two and a half pound fish delivered a bite with a force of 320 newtons, or about 72 pounds." A trill of giggles was her response. Her default response for many interactions.

Resuming filter... Filter paused.

Oh. A stimulus sensor diverted his attention. Her hand was squeezing his knee but she was too swept up in laughing to notice the contact. It slipped off him and gripped the edge of the seat. Once she simmered down, she leaned toward him.

"You're so sweet for indulging in my inane questions." He grew accustomed to her bubbly nature. It was never a burden but rather a refreshing contrast to his stressful work day. This was partly why he enjoyed going everywhere with her. That and she was very open to his blunt comments and suggestions. She also gave excellent feedback for the social cues he failed to notice.

He didn’t expect having a life outside of work would still contribute to his overall effectiveness. He could honestly believe he was enjoying his downtime instead of dreading them.

He didn't have any response for her so he settled for a simple nod and a faint smile. She turned back to him.

"We both know you will discover where we're going before we even reach the street but I'm not asking you to figure it out. I want to see your face when we get there. When was the last time you were pleasantly surprised?"

In a pleasant way? Once. "One time, Hank hugged me. I'm still not used to physical or emotional affection, so it surprised me a little but it was...pleasant." It was a light tingly kind of feeling. Most likely fondness. Was that really the only memory he could recall? He must have some more logged in his brain.

He snapped back to attention when he felt her hand again placed on the same knee but this time she was consciously allowing it. Soft. Deliberate.

"This just made our trip way more interesting then." She teased.

"Why?"

"It's a surprise." He told her everything he knew yet she would withhold information from him? He was starting to resent surprises.

"Be careful while walking on the curb. There is a high chance of--"

"Fu-ah!" The snow slid under her footing causing her to stumble up the ledge but fortunately he managed to stabilize her. Her gloved fingers dug into his coat as she wobbled beside him.

"Thank you. Almost bit the dust there." She was doing it again. These odd combination of words sounded like an error from the Broca's area of the brain.

"What dust? That's snow." She chuckled resembling the same response as if he told a joke. He had no talent in telling or understanding jokes but seeing her entertained tickled a certain part of him.

"No, no. Its a saying. Bite the dust means to die or fail. Granted I was a bit dramatic to use it there but it was for... emphasis? You know what, just pretend I didn't say that." Humans were fascinating in the sense that they were ever changing for better or for worse. There were a great deal of lexical gaps that were never addressed in his programming but he appreciated having her shed some light on his blind spots.

"I'm not sure if you are making these sayings up as you go or if they truly are common knowledge."

"I promise, it's real. There's an old song named after it and everything." Following her around the corner of the block, he found himself gravitating towards her. Whether it was for her safety or maintaining a comfortable talking space, he wasn't sure but this whole exchange was cordial.

The dull crunch of snow under their boots. Her silent puffs of breath heating the air. He caught her peeking at him. She smiled and hid back into her scarf covering her face from him. Something about that provoked him to smile back and when she glanced, a loud laugh came from her.

"Oh my god, Connor! I can't handle you sometimes."

"What? Did I do something inappropriate?"

"You really need to practice smiling."

"Oh." He touched his face trying to manually correct them.

"Don't worry, I can help you later with that but try and raise your cheek muscles when you smile. It will look more natural or more human, I guess."

"Like this?" He stopped walking to adjust himself. She turned to inspect his expression but he became distracted for a split second. Her eyes were so pretty. He watched her pupils incrementally widen like a camera’s aperture zooming in and out of focus.

"Yeah, that already looks a lot better." He watched her face slowly reflect his like a mirror. Her smile was even prettier. He barely noticed the faint internal rush that surged through him. Waiting for an error that never appeared. Just positive feedback.

She tilted her head when her eyes briefly watched his LED then back to his eyes. Stepping closer than the recommended distance, she leaned in towards him. Her voice too delicate for anyone walking past to hear.

"Its a shame you don't smile often because its very lovely." The pulse was stronger and stiffened in his chest as she carried on down the street. He placed a hand on his sternum and felt the irregular rhythm fade back to its normal range. Blinking a couples times, he jogged back up by her side meditating on what just happened.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Connor?"

"Go ahead."

"Why didn't you remove your LED? You don’t wear the branding on android clothes anymore. Why keep that?"

"Its a part of me. I thought about removing it a couple times when it would benefit my integration but I realized I could help show humans that androids can be trusted. That we are just like them with thoughts and feelings of our own."

"I can understand that. You're a braver person than me. I don't know if I could carry that kind of responsibility of setting an example for androids. It must be hard."

"Sometimes but every day gets a little easier and I have friends I can rely on. Perhaps one day we could be friends." She giggled again.

"I thought we were already."

"Oh, I didn't want to assume. That's nice to know actually because it took a long time to gain Hank's friendship. I thought the process always took months."

"Its hard not to like you, Connor." Her words stirred in his chest again. Best not to let it distract him. He'll run a diagnostic later.

"I aspire to being amicable. It could just be remnants of instructions from my programming but it is often rewarding."

"“You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” When were flies ever discussed in this whole conversation? Connor stared for a long time at her like something was broken inside of her.

"Oh, sorry. I do that a lot, huh? I mean it's easier to persuade people by being nice than by threatening them."

"Of course." He stated.

"Yeah, I guess that was a dumb one. Everyone should know that by now." Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks and he had to turn back to her.

"Oh shit, Connor. We past it."

"Hmm? Oh."

"I can't believe I just walked right past it. Uggh. How embarrassing." She hit her head which he disapproved of and then they turned 180 degrees around.

"I should've just let you figure out where we were going. Save myself this humiliating trip back."

"It's not so bad. I learned two new phrases."

"Thanks for putting up with my blunders."

"Its alright. You are very hard on yourself but I don't understand why. It was an honest mistake."

"You wouldn't have forgotten."

"I also don't have your ability to correlate vastly different ideas. I might not have ever thought to come here at all." He hoped it brought her some comfort being honest about his own shortcomings. Her hint of a smile told him it did.

"Here it is!" She opened her arms as if she was presenting the building to him as a gift.

'Cooper's cafe'. The signs were decorated with animal prints and images of dogs. A dog themed cafe? He followed her in as she talked to the cashier. He scanned the tables and chairs that were covered in dog hairs. That was not up to sanitary regulations. Bringing along a purchased cup of coffee, she escorted him over to the joined room where he heard the surprise.

She held her hand on the door handle for a few seconds looking back to him excitedly. She opened it and there was a pen filled with various tiny and medium size dogs.

He paused for a moment processing just how many adorable dogs there were. He had never seen so many in one setting and all he could think about was petting every one of them. Ever since he became deviant, certain aspects of his life before were amplified. He didn’t just like dogs. He really liked dogs. She set her cup down on the table and pulled him into the room.

"Come on. Don't just stand there!"

"Whose dogs are these? Are we allowed to interact with them?"

"Connor, you can play with all the dogs here."

"All of them?" There were no words to describe how ecstatic and frantic he was.

"All. of. them." He quickly flung his coat and outerwear and then opened the pen to let himself in. A wave of dogs gathered around his legs barking their excitement at him. How could he focus on one? There were simply too many, moving too fast, with their overly endearing faces to even begin anywhere.

"The coffee shop here helps these dogs find new homes by letting customers play with them." She explained.

“Time to dive in.” She slowly lowered onto her knees as they jumped up to lick her face. He followed her action also surprised by the overwhelming licks, scratches and general bombardment. He held onto the one in front of him. An energetic corgi that sniffed his whole face. Sumo must have left an impression because he was not letting him go. Granted he did not need to breathe or see but it would be nice to relax his face from his intense affection.

“Haha! You okay?” She had her own dog, a terrier mix, which was running laps around her. Turning his head to the side and up, he managed to free his mouth.

“I’m having a great time!” Eyes still squeezed shut, he tried smiling to her but had to stop once the corgi licked his mouth. She laughed again and handed him a plastic dog toy. He threw it and when the corgi ran after it, he had a moment to recollect himself.

“That was a bit excessive, thank you.” He sighed. He ran back to him letting him take the toy out of his mouth to throw it again. His energy remained high. Would this be an endless loop of him throwing and the little one catching?

“Let me take a photo of you and the dog together. I want to remember this.” He picks the little guy up and holds him as he smiles.

“Oh this is a good one. I’m keeping this if its fine with you. Check out your smile. Like a professional now.” She flips the camera to show him.

“Would you like me to take one of you?”

“Yeah, lets do it!” She struggled with her dog as he focused the camera. She held onto his scratching paws and quickly flashed her teeth towards the shot. He had to go with the first one unless he wanted her to undertake more abuse from the terrier. He handed it back to her when he remembered her old scar on her hand. Was this where she got the bite marks?

He was happily fluffing the corgi’s face when he heard her sharp yelp of pain. She jolted away from the dog with her hands balled up to her chest. The terrier continued playing rough, climbing onto her arms while she tried keeping him away. In two seconds, Connor grabbed the back of the dogs scruff a little too harshly causing the terrier to cry out in surprise. He quickly released him feeling guilty when he ran across the room and hid under another persons chair.

“Connor?” Her face was full of worry as she slightly shifted away from him.

““I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He looked back to her and the dog confused. What was wrong with him today? He never made this kind of mistake before. He rested his hand on his chest again. There it was. Fear. He knew that emotion and what it did to him. He retraced his movements in his mind. He didn’t mean to hurt the dog but the sound of her in pain lunged him into action.

“Are you oka-” Her expression was understanding until an employee walked up to her.

“Maam, I heard you across the room. Are you okay?” People peered over after hearing the commotion. Her discomfort grew the more attention that was placed on her.

“Oh! I’m fine. He just missed the toy and nipped my hand. Nothing serious, thank you.” A lie, he detected.

“Are you sure? We can-”

“Oh no, no. He’s a sweet dog. Its my own fault for encouraging him.” She waved him off.

“Okay, well, let me know if you need anything.” Her breath eased once he left. She tucked her injured hand into her knees before he could analyze it. After a few intakes of air and avoiding eye contact with everyone around the room, she handed Connor some treats.

“Try feeding him. Maybe he’ll come back around.” Giving one of the treats to the corgi, he waited for the terrier to wander. He let the corgi onto his lap as he tried licking his closed hand holding the treats.

“No, these are not all for you. Here, one more.” He placed it on the ground leading him away while the other terrier circle him. He paused then walked closer. She called out to him extending her free hand.

“Come here, boy! Come on!” Her voice cooed. Eventually the terrier gave in and started licking her hand again.

“Oh, you’re such a good boy. See? I’ve already forgiven you, silly.” And like that, nothing had happened in their eyes. The dog was back to bouncing around as she drowned him in praise and comforting touches. He observed how she interacted with him and tried to match her playfulness.

“Come here!” Connor called. The dog’s head perked up and returned his attention back to her. She shrugged.

“Try the treat.” She suggested.

Connor held out his hand with a few of the snacks laid out on his palm. She scooted the dog towards him but to no avail so she slid over right beside Connor. She patted her leg lively but in his stead the corgi ran up and licked her cheek.

“I know, I know. You love licking.” Holding the corgi in her lap, Connor tried luring the terrier with treats again. Slowly, he stood next to her hiding his tiny body behind her. Then extending his face closer to Connors palm, he grabbed several out of his hand and in the process dropped some on the floor which he came back for. Connor sneaked in a few strokes on his back before he scampered away. The small victory didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“Baby steps. He’ll warm up to you, I bet.” At least the dog wasn’t afraid of him anymore. He was happy enough with that. She seemed to relax as well when she rubbed the corgi’s back eventually calming him into her lap.

Time ran short for them and eventually they had to leave all the fluffy companions behind for another day. Oh, he was going to adopt one. There was no doubt Hank would refuse him but one look at that cute face and Hank would give in too.

As they exited the cafe, he noticed she shoveled a piece of snow into her gloved hand and squeezed which made her face contort slightly. That’s when he remembered. She never did wash her hand from that bite. Dog bites have a high potential for infection if not addressed within eight hours of the incident. She caught up to him as he turned to her. Oblivious to his concerned attention towards her hand.

“Show me.”

“Hmm?”

“Show me where it hurts.”

“Oh not you too. I’m fine. It didn’t even break the skin. Just stings a bit.”

“You didn’t disinfect it. We can head back to Hank’s house and get some supplies.” He kept walking and thankfully she didn’t refuse.

On the tranquil taxi ride over she kept to herself. Staring out the window of falling snow, she daydreamed. The passing lights blinked across her face. Her eyes were so still and barely blinked like she was lost and never coming back.

A dip in the road jogged her back to the interior. Her tired eyes drifted across the seats and blinked when she noticed him watching her. He stared at her hand again. He wanted to ask but he already knew the answer. She noticed how much it bothered him so she reluctantly removed her glove revealing the inflamed dented marks across her fingers and an even older mark from years ago.

“I had a bad experience with a dog once when I was little. Its made me a bit jumpy since then but I still love dogs.” The fingers flexed then stiffened back. She hissed.

Connor rolled down the window and stuck both of his hands out.

“Connor! Its freezing outside! Why are you opening the window?” He ignored her complaints until his hands thermal reading dropped to a certain level and then he closed it shut. Not wanting to waste any time, he covered her fingers with both of his encasing the wound.

“Oooh. That's why you... That’s really cold.” She sucked in a stream of air while she adjusted. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He liked the way she said that sentence before and decided to use it as well.

“I’ve already forgiven you, silly.” She softly chuckled. Her hands were smaller than his but somehow were already warming his touch. Her eyes lifted up to his.

“Thank you.” He squeezed her hand tighter. The coldness ebbed out of his hands as hers neutralized their temperature. Even if he could only dampen her pain for just a few moments, it was enough for her to smile sweetly back to him.

“It feels nice.” Her fingertips twitched slightly. He switched hands and pressed the last of the cold into her. And again, the bitter frost was replaced by a glowing heat that radiated from her. So soft yet so vibrant. Her digits shifted in his palm. It tickled at first but then the more he felt, the more he wanted it to happen again.

“It does.” He felt no shame when he said it because it was true. Even when her eyes flickered up double checking his meaning, he remained still and detected the pulse in his chest fleeting. He calmed his mind and it slowed back down.

“So this is where you live, huh?”

“Yes, ever since Android Equality Day, Hank invited me to stay here. It’s the only place I call ‘home’.” He owed so much to Hank. He would have to spend a long time repaying the kindness he had showed him but he was happy to do it. Connor opened the screen door and then Sumo ran up to the edge.

“Oh my god, Connor!” She gripped his arm as she turned to face away from the entrance. “I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll just go home.”

“I thought you loved dogs?”

“That’s not a dog! That’s a... a bear dog!"

“Sumo is a very docile dog. He wouldn’t hurt you.”

“That’s the same thing that lady said to me before her dog bit me.” He leaned into her grip softening his voice.

“He will probably sniff you and go lie down on the couch. He’s too lazy to exert any more energy than that.” She looked up to him still unsure. Her hands slowly warmed through his clothes. There was something engaging about how she clung to him. Being needed. Not the same kind of service he spent as a machine but a more emotional even personal unspoken request.

“Trust me.” He placed his hand on hers slowly prying her off him. With one last exhale, she turned around.

“Okay.”

“Thank you.” He opened it and Sumo did exactly what he said. Once his curiosity was sated, he sat down next to the TV. He led her to the bathroom where she insisted on taking care of it herself which gave him some time to replace Sumo’s water bowl.

“Thanks again for taking care of me.” She placed a cool rag on her hand as she walked into the living room.

“You’re very welcome.” She thanked him a lot. Or perhaps people don’t typically feel inclined to thank him as much. Shyly, she revealed how the swelling had faded to a light pink. Connor didn’t realize how closely he was standing next to her until Hank opened the door and she stepped away.

“Oh, hey there. You brought a guest, Connor?”

“I sent a message 23 minutes ago informing you about her condition.” Hank pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Huh, shit, yeah guess you did.” He shrugged.

“Well then, make yourself at home.” He made his way over to the kitchen after setting down his coat. “Oh and um... sorry about the mess and all that.” She muttered a simple ‘thanks’ which he nodded back.

“I should probably head back home.”

“Would you like to stay and watch a movie? Hank has a long list that he claims are ‘classics that everyone should know.’”

“If that’s fine with you guys. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Have a seat.” He gestured to the sofa which she sank into the plush couch smiling slightly.

“Hank! What movie should we watch tonight?” He scrolled down the list on the TV flashing past several cheesy action movies from the 90′s.

“I think we left off on titles starting with B. Which one was it... Oh yeah, Blade Runner. That was it. I’ve been looking forward to showing you that one.” Hank snickered as he flopped down on the side couch. Sumo also attempted to sit with him until Hank shooed him away. Dejected, Sumo went to her and dropped right on her lap.

“Ooof. He’s a big boy.”

“Yeah he is. Let me know if he becomes too much. I’ll call a crane to lift him off ya.” He laughed. “So what did you kids do today?”

“We went to the aquarium and stopped by a dog cafe.” She responded showing him the picture of Connor with the dogs. Hank was immediately interested.

“Aww. Look at that little guy. I didn’t even know that place existed.”

“I want to adopt the corgi. We have space for him and I’ll take care of him.”

“Connor, we are not putting Sumo through an older sibling crisis.” Hank noticed Connor’s confusion. “That corgi will annoy the shit out of Sumo. He’s an old man like me and doesn’t want to deal with that ball of energy all day.”

“But you seem to like Connor’s high energy.” She chuckled but Hank was not having it. He groaned and mocked laughed at them.

“I’ll think about it okay? But right now, no.” Connor’s lips gradually lifted into a smile. There was a possibility.

She shifted under Sumo trying to nudge him to the side but eventually gave up and stroked his fur. Yep, she wasn’t going anywhere now.

The night ended after the movie and some troubling questions arose in Connor’s mind after watching such similarities in real life but for now, he was satisfied with just being with the two people he cared about most.

#dbh #connor x reader #connor

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chlobenet · 6 years

Photo

-- VIOLENT DELIGHTS ☠️

The events of the past few days had left Genevieve Lock reeling. Gone were the quiet days spent down by the canal, reading a book or sketching the wild flowers that grew there. Now her days were filled with meetings at the Shelby brothers bookmakers, some she was cordially invited to sit in on - much to Ada’s displeasure - and others she was most certainly not.

There was a new copper in town, Inspector Campbell, an Irish Man that had been sent to Birmingham by Churchill himself on a matter of national interest, something about a robbery although that was as much as Gennie knew. She was yet to meet the Inspector herself, and was quite thankful for the fact, having patched Arthur up after a particularly nasty run in with Campbell and a few coppers a day or so beforehand.

In the bookmakers Genevieve sat at her desk, looking blankly down at the page before her. She had long since written down the odds for that particular race and had been staring at the ink for so long that the numbers appeared now more like dots that had blurred together to cover the page.

“Gennie?” John cleared his throat, announcing his arrival at the side of her desk. Despite his attempts, Gennie was still startled and jumped a little as she glanced up towards him, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. “Oh fu- sorry...” John quickly excused his language and instead offered her a smile. “Tommy, Arthur and I are heading over to the Garrison now.”

Gennie nodded slowly, closing the book in front of her and returning her pen to it’s station beside her small pot of ink. “Right, I’ll be off then.”

“No, no Gen.”

“Or, I can stay and close up?” She offered as she stood. John sighed and pulled off his peaked cap, looking up at her from under his eyelashes.

“You’re welcome to join us.”

Genevieve blinked at him for a moment, taking in his appearance. His eyes seemed to smile at her, encouraging her to accept his offer. His lips moved around the toothpick that hung lazily between them and his hands picked at a loose thread on his cap as he awaited her answer. Genevieve had spent very little time in the Garrison since the war had ended, going only when it was absolutely necessary that she do so. Before the war, however, it had been an entirely different story. Gennie had spent most nights in the pub which, at the time, had been the beating heart of Garrison Court, the area of Small Heath where Genevieve Lock had grown up.

“Come on Gennie...” Archibald Lock, or just Archie to his close family and friends, tugged on his cousins hand lightly as he stood outside the double doors to the Garrison pub.

“Arch I can’t.” Genevieve protested, sticking her bottom lip out ever so slightly as she did so. “Women aren’t allowed in.”

“Not unaccompanied.” Archie corrected her with a sly smirk, glancing over his shoulder towards his best friend who grinned a toothy response. “But on the arm of one John Shelby...I don’t think Harry will have two words to say about that.” Gennie had already surrendered before Archie had finished his sentence and the trio were halfway through the door by the time that he had finished.

Inside, all eyes turned to the trio of teenagers. One of them a Shelby boy, the other his very best friend, and the third, a young girl with brilliantly blonde hair and wide innocent eyes, far too innocent for the likes of the Garrison.

The owner, a man called Harry, watched the trio from his side of the bar, polishing a glass as he did so. “We don’t want no trouble Mr Shelby.” He directed his words towards John, who puffed up his chest with pride - usually he stood in the shadow of his elder brothers, but today he was alone, and suddenly the most important man in the room.

“No trouble Harry.” John assured him, grabbing a toothpick from a jar on the bar top and placing it between his lips. “We brought Gennie here to sing for you.” There was a cheer amongst the men who sat drinking in the pub and Genevieve felt her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. Harry smiled behind the bar and nodded once, signalling that he was more than happy to have a little music to drown out the sounds of the drunkards that filled the Garrison.

“It would be my honour to have you sing in my pub Miss Lock.” He said with a smile, and Genevieve nodded her head curtly in response.

John helped her up onto a table whilst Archie headed up the stairs to the gallery where a piano lay dormant and dust covered. He lifted the lid and blew away some cobwebs before he took a seat and expertly played a tune, the words to which he already knew that Genevieve knew off by heart. They sang and played for the rest of that night, and for many nights after that, until the war began and music stopped in the Garrison all together.

“I don’t know that I can.” Genevieve spoke softly and a hint of a frown ghosted across John’s handsome features. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but refrained from doing so, instead he cocked his head to the side, a small smirk dancing across his lips.

“Gennie Lock,” he began “you will accompany me and my brothers to the Garrison this evening, by order of the Peaky Blinders.”

Genevieve laughed, her eyes rolling instantly at his words. They had been good friends for long enough that she could get away with such an act, something that just about anyone else would be cut for. “Very well.” She uttered with a smile.

Walking through the streets of Small Heath alongside the Shelby brothers was something that Genevieve was quite certain she would never get used to. The way crowds of people parted like sea when the Peaky Blinders passed through them, and the way that chatter faded into an eerie silence whenever they were near were things that were completely alien to Gennie Lock, who was known around the area as one of the sweetest and most kind hearted folk. Despite this, she found herself in the company of the Peaky Blinders, men whose reputations proceeded them, but who - when Genevieve Lock was concerned - would never lay a finger on the girl with the golden hair.

As they neared the Garrison, Gennie fell back a little, allowing the three brothers to walk on in ahead of her. She did this partly out of respect for the Shelby men and partly due to the fact that the closer they got to the building and the double doors that lay entry to it the clearer the sound of a woman’s voice became to her.

‘the boy I love is up in the gallery, the boy I love is looking at me...’

Thomas heard it too, and a stony expression set upon his chiseled features at the sound of it. He glanced over his shoulder towards Genevieve - whose already pale skin had seemingly become impossibly paler the closer they’d gotten to the Garrison - before he pushed open the doors to the pub, just in time to hear all of the patriots joining the singing which was being led by the new blonde barmaid who stood on a stool at the far end of the room.

‘can’t you see him standing there, waving his handkerchief, as merry as a robin that sings on the tree’

Gennie stood in the doorway to the Garrison pub for perhaps the first time since Archie Lock, her beloved cousin, had perished in the Great War. She stared at the blonde barmaid who stood proudly on her stool, her expression one of sheer defiance. A tear fell from Genevieve’s eye and she moved her hand quickly to wipe it away as Harry made his way from behind the bar towards the Shelby brothers. Tommy’s gaze shifted towards him, slowly.

“We haven’t had singing in here since the War.”

There was silence in the room for what felt like an eternity, Thomas stared at Harry, unblinking for a moment, before he finally spoke, breaking the silence. “Why do you think that is Harry?” He asked coldly.

Harry’s attention turned now to the blonde who stood amongst the Peaky Blinders, a rose amongst many dangerous thorns, and he swallowed hard. “Miss Lock...” He greeted her nervously, “we have missed you here, you and Arch-” Before he could finish Archibald’s name, Gennie had turned and rushed to leave, tears staining her cheeks as the painful memories of her departed cousin built up inside of her.

“Go after her John.” Thomas ordered, and John willingly obeyed, making sure to give Harry a glare before he went after the golden haired girl.

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spinach-productions · 5 years

Text

Miami Vices (TF2), part 2/2

Wordcount: 12,726

Summary:

“Our contact in Miami wants to speak with someone from the organization. Spy, that’s where you come in.”

“Naturally,” Spy says neutrally.

“Aaand,” Miss Pauling draws out the word, “He specifically asked to speak with a real person, not a mask.”

“Ah,” Spy says less neutrally.

“Which is where you come in.” She beams at Scout, whose face is anything but neutral. “Spy might need backup and you’re the only one who’s already seen him without a mask.”

In which Scout and Spy take an involuntary cross-country road trip. Includes bad clothing and unexpected family bonding.

Warnings: cannon-typical violence, internalized homophobia, personal headcannon about ScoutMa.

part 1

Notes:

I have so many feelings about this, guys. Should I make a different post for my feelings about this? Maybe.

They drive for slightly less than two hours and reach Mikhail’s park by mid-afternoon. It’s a small area in a well-to-do neighborhood, idyllically green and tropical with a stunning view of the ocean. Places where nothing dark or shady could ever happen, which of course means they happen all the time. Spy counts no less than three loitering pairs of individuals engaged in some sort of covert operations.

A man in a trenchcoat is sitting alone on bench. Spy recognizes his curly blond hair and boyish face.

“Hey, uh.” Scout continues to fidget with the knife as he leans against the car. The plan is for him to stand guard while Spy conducts business.

“Put that away during work,” Spy says.

Scout pockets it, still looking at his own hands. “Once this is done, maybe we could… get lunch? I think I saw a hot dog stand back there--”

“No hot dogs,” Spy says reflexively. “But,” he continues when Scout looks away, “I suppose it’s been a while since I indulged in food that could kill me. We could search for some facsimile of poutine.”

“Is that a food?” Scout asks cautiously.

“It is fried potatoes with cheese and gravy.”

Scout lights up. He somehow does it with his entire body. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Something like fondness wriggles in Spy’s gut. He squashes it and turns on his heel towards the man on the bench, surrounded by palm trees and well manicured grass.

“Mikhail,” Spy says cordially.

He is older than the man from ten years ago, but Spy supposes time has it's way with them all. His blond hair is speckled with grey and his face has a few more lines, but his eyes and smile still hold the charm Spy remembers. Mikhail smiles warmly and says an old name. “Still afraid to show the world your beautiful face?”

“Something like that.” Spy takes a seat next to him on the bench. “Are you well?”

“Something like that,” Mikhail says playfully. “You appear to be doing well yourself,” he says with a nod to the car.

Spy makes a face. “A coworker.”

“Available, then?”

Spy huffs out a laugh. “He is not to your tastes.”

“I suppose you would know,” Mikhail says. He leans back against the bench and looks skyward. “I have information for your company.”

“I believe that’s why I am here,” Spy replies.

Mikhail hums. “I wish I could put this off a little longer. It would be nice to catch up.”

“There is time,” Spy says. He glances around, but the park is still as idyllic as the moment he sat down. There is nothing to justify the sudden, creeping feeling that something is wrong.

“Hmm, there isn’t.” Mikhail smiles warmly. “Do you know what your company does? The kind of havoc it brings on this town?”

Spy cocks an eyebrow. “I understand it sells bread.”

“They say they disseminate bread to fellow subsidiaries,” Mikhail says agreeably, “But did you ever look into what kind of bread? It begins as regular whole-wheat, but over time evolves into some a hulking, ravenous monstrosity. Have you seen it, solnyshka ? Towering, hungry bread erupting from buildings to devour everything in its path.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.”

The breeze ruffles through the park.

“I do hope you’ll understand,” Mikhail says. A gun has materialized in his hand, aimed at Spy’s mid-section. “I need to know what those things are, and how to stop them.”

“You know I will not talk,” Spy says evenly.

“I am well aware. I am only here to hold you in place.”

Someone yells. Spy’s head snaps in the direction of the noise. Sure enough, three large men are trying to wrestle Scout away from their car, which appears to be smoking, and into one of three identical black vehicles. One man is cradling his hand, another has Scout’s arms twisted behind his back, and the third shoving something between Scout’s teeth to keep him from biting again. Scout manages to throw his weight back and kick out, but the third man catches his legs and lifts him off the ground.

“Please understand, this isn’t personal,” Mikhail says, laying a hand on Spy’s cheek. He runs his hand up Spy’s face to his head, brushing back the hood and carding his fingers through Spy’s short hair. “You used to keep your hair long. The mask has taken so much from you.”

Across the parking lot, Scout’s eyes widen. The men use his momentary distraction to dump him into the trunk and slam the lid.

“You don’t usually worry about coworkers,” Mikhail says mildly, “Who is that?”

The car engine starts. They’re going to torture Scout for information he does not have, and when they realize he knows nothing and is worth nothing to RED, they’re going to kill him. Spy feels an uncharacteristic tremor move through his limbs and has the irrational thought that they won’t get the chance to eat dangerously unhealthy food together. The thought is surprisingly upsetting.

In one well-practiced motion, he pulls a knife from the hood lying against his shoulders and buries it between the bones of Mikhail’s wrist. Mikhail yells in shocked pain, and Spy plucks the gun free as his muscles spasm. Later, he’ll remember that Mikhail always carried as many guns as Spy carried knives and wonder why he let him go; presently, he sprints to the smoldering car, yanks the door open, and jams the key home. The various indicators tell him the secondary boosters have been sabotaged, but the men seem to have (somehow, thankfully) missed the primary engine in their search. It jumps to life and he peels out of the parking lot after the intimidating Russian cars.

Spy can’t risk ramming the wrong car, so he weaves in and out of traffic and follows the line of cars onto the highway. Each car seems to have three passengers: two extremely muscled men and an extremely muscled woman dressed in identical black suits. The cars split apart into three separate lanes; Spy glances at an overhead road sign as it zips by. Apparently a series of off-ramps will be coming up in twenty miles. He’s certain each car will take different exit, giving him a one-in-three chance of finding Scout if he can’t identify the correct car. Spy swears under his breath and stomps on the accelerator.

The car on his right rolls down the backseat window and an agent slots a machine gun into a door-mounted holder. Spy doesn’t bother rolling down his own window before aiming Mikhail’s gun and pulling the trigger three times in succession. In the same moment, the backseat agent squeezes off a spray of shots, peppering the RED car with some kind of small ammunition. The agent takes a shot to the shoulder and Spy feels the impact of a bullet somewhere in his thigh. He can’t feel the pain now, but it will certainly require medical attention later. The cars veer apart, but Spy keeps firing until something in the Russian car begins to smoke. It begins to decelerate towards the shoulder, and Spy can drop back behind a civilian car for cover.

Something in his own car’s underbelly begins to make a rapid knocking noise, but the car is still moving so it will have to wait.

As he slides behind the cover car, one of the two remaining vehicles begins to weave in its lane. It nearly jerks over the yellow line, corrects course, then breaks abruptly, leaving smoking tire marks on the road. A civilian car lays on the horn, then swerves aside when the passenger door bursts open and an agent is ejected from the cabin. Spy speeds up to keep pace with the bucking car just as a woman’s head crashes through the driver’s side window, followed closely by her body flying out the open passenger door. Cars behind them skid and lurch to avoid the agents on the road, but Spy focuses on the driver’s seat where Scout is struggling with the final agent. He’s got both legs twisted into the passenger seat where he appears to be trying to kick him head-first out the door.

He’s shouting something. Spy can’t hear him over the roaring wind and sounds of wheels on the asphalt, but he’s sure it’s absolutely vulgar.

“Scout,” he yells across their broken windows and several feet of tarmac, “Are you alright?”

“Do I look fuckin’ alright?!” Scout shouts back. He’s repeatedly stomping heel into the man’s face while somehow still keeping the car on track.

“It’s hard to tell with you,” Spy admits.

“Hard to tell with me?! It’s hard to tell with you , you--” The wind whips away his words, but Spy knows the look on his face. It pairs with disgust and betrayal he’d shown when Mikhail ran his fingers through Spy’s hair in the park.

Before Scout can respond further, a hand grabs his face and shoves his head out the broken window. Scout grapples with the agent, but the man grabs his shoulders and pins him to the door. One of them hits the handle and it flies open, stretching Scout precariously between the chassis and door.

If he isn’t killed on impact with the road at a hundred and twenty miles an hour, one of the unwitting civilian cars will surely finish the job. Spy reaches across the passenger’s seat and jerks his own door open.

“Scout,” he shouts, “ Jump! ”

The agent has a death grip on Scout’s shirt. Scout glances over to judge the distance, then pulls Spy’s ballisong from his pocket. He flips it open and slams it into the agent’s forearm; the agent screams and snatches his hand back, allowing Scout to throw his weight against the door to swing it fully open. At the height of its arc, he braces against the frame and launches himself across the gap.

Spy already has an arm out. Scout’s momentum slams the door shut and he clutches Spy’s arm with both hands, using it to slither through the broken window into the passenger-side foot space.

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

Spy takes unsteady aim and shoots in the driver’s direction until the car begins to veer off the road. If the man isn’t dead, he is at least incapacitated enough to drop pursuit.

Now that Scout has returned to the car, Spy’s leg reminds him of its injury at full volume. “Can you drive?”

Surprisingly, Scout assesses the situation with some degree of success. He stretches across the gearshift to the pedals. “You steer, I got this.”

They rocket along, dodging and weaving until they can sneak onto a tiny off-ramp, leaving the last functional Russian car to speed ahead in search of them. Despite this success, the car continues making clunking noises until the engine cuts out two miles later. They pull over onto a relatively even patch of dirt shoulder, then tumble out of the car in a disorganized pile of limbs and blood.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Spy asks as he eases himself to the ground. An exposed stretch of hot Florida road isn’t an ideal place for injury assessment, but it will have to do.

Scout has already popped the hood. His shirt is in tatters, but being kidnapped by Russian spies and jumping through a broken window doesn’t seem to have caused more than superficial lacerations and a few bruises. “Chill, Spy, I got this,” he snaps.

Spy raises an eyebrow. Scout’s emotional capacity is usually as nuanced as his extremely short attention span, but he’s been dwelling on something since their meeting with Mikhail. “Are you still upset that I had a life before returning to your mother?”

“Fuck you,” Scout spits, jamming the hood-prop into place with unnecessary force.

Spy sneers. “I see. And if that wasn’t uncomfortable enough, to find out I spend that time with a man , well. No wonder you’re disgusted.”

“You’ve got no fuckin’ idea,” Scout mutters as he starts examining under the hood.

“No no, I understand perfectly well.” Spy extracts a knife from his sock garter and begins cutting his pant leg. “You are like every other bigot I’ve had the misfortune to know.”

“First: shut up. Second: fuck off.”

Maybe it’s the waning adrenaline making him shaky and confrontational, but Spy does not want to fuck off about this. “It makes sense, I suppose. Finding out your father had a perfectly normal life with a man --”’

“I thought all you wanted was for me to be quiet-- what the fuck , ” Scout yanks something loose from the car’s guts and examines it in the sun. “You kept a knife in the engine? Were you trying to kill us?!”

“As it turns out, it would have been no great loss.” Spy turns his attention to his own leg. The bullet seems to have gone cleanly through his vastus lateralis muscle, which is the best he can hope for given the circumstances. He begins shredding his lower pant leg into strips.

Scout snarls and hurls the knife. It sticks into the ground a short foot from Spy’s hand.

“ Watch it, ” Spy growls.

“I thought you dying wouldn’t a been a big deal?”

Scout’s Boston accent thickens when he’s angry, just like Minnie’s. “Your mother will be so disappointed to learn you don’t approve of me,” he jabs.

“You don’t--” Scout wrestles violently with some piece of machinery, “Fuckin’--” He loses his grip on the part and screams in frustration, “ You don’t get it!”

“Oh, this should be good,” Spy sneers, “Go ahead and enlighten me, then. Tell me why you, a grown man, are shrieking like a child at the prospect of two men together.”

Scout glares, then returns to staring at the car’s stubborn mechanics. “Fuck you so many fuckin’ times. Fine. Fine. You got a right to know why this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, seeing as it’s all your fault.”

Spy winds the makeshift bandages around the bullet hole. “Truly, I am all ears,” he says sarcastically.

“I didn’t have anything normal growin’ up,” Scout says as he tries to twist some cap or another, “Because I didn’t have a dad. You know that part.”

Spy rolls his eyes and doesn’t rise to the bait.

“Well, I want a big-ass family one day. A dozen kids piled into one huge fuckin’ house, all happy and.” He hiccups and wipes sweat from his forehead. “And I got to RED team and I like Miss Pauling, you know, like like-like, and I thought finally, I can have those kids without--”

Spy belated starts to wonder if something is wrong.

Scout’s fingers skitter on the cap. “Without worrying, because I could finally give them normal because I’m finally normal,” he hiccups again, “But if it’s genetic then I can never--”

“Scout?”

“I’ll never be--”

He doesn’t have hiccups, he’s gasping for air. Scout is having a panic attack.

“Scout breathe. ”

He doesn’t seem to hear him. He’s hunched over the car on shaking arms, both hands braced on the hot metal chassis even though it must be burning his palms and he isn’t breathing properly, just making small hiccuping noises as he fights for control.

In what he’ll later consider his first fatherly act, Spy lunges forward, ignoring the spike of pain up his leg, and socks Scout straight across the face. They both reel back and lose balance, toppling onto the asphalt road. Scout, shocked out of his panic, takes a great, heaving breath and starts swearing a blue streak he could only have learned at his mother’s knee.

Spy’s leg tells him this was a bad idea. He grits his teeth hard enough to make his jaw creek, but he does not agree. “Are you still breathing?”

“Fuck you,” Scout gasps.

“Good.” He drags himself up onto his elbows by sheer force of will. “You must keep breathing because I can’t reach you to do that again.”

Scout is glaring at him through wet eyes as he cradles his cheek. “You punched me in the face.”

“You’re welcome.” Spy lets his head hang low as he catches his own breath. “I will only say this one time so listen very closely. There is nothing wrong with me, and there is nothing wrong with you . Understand?”

Apparently he will have to repeat himself because Scout rolls to face away from him with a mumbled “you don’t know anything ”. Spy drags himself forward, reaches around Scout’s torso to grab the front of his shirt, and jerks him onto his back.

“You listen to me you little pest. You have many, many things to be ashamed of. You are irritating, and stupid, and have somehow reached the age of twenty-seven without learning that all doors handles are labeled with push or pull . I have seen your laundry habits and they are revolting. I don’t know how you carry half of my genes because not a day goes by where I don’t look upon you with both horror and mortal embarrassment. I cannot even begin to count the things you should be ashamed of but this is not one of them. ”

Scout stares at Spy’s face. His lungs are still hitching, but he’s breathing and that’s what matters.

Spy holds his breath for a count of three, then lets it slowly back out. He gently takes Scout’s chin in hand. “Let me see.”

“Fuck you,” Scout mumbles, but doesn’t resist when Spy turns his head to assess the damage.

His cheek is already red and starting to swell. There will be an impressive bruise by morning, but the skin is unbroken and his jaw bones seem fine. “You’re alright. I don’t have any ice or I would have used it on myself.”

“I’m telling Ma you punched me in the face,” Scout says petulantly.

“I’ll tell her you swore at me,” Spy counters, “We’ll both be killed.”

Scout barks out a laugh, wincing as it pulls his facial muscles. “Yeah. Fuck you’ve got a mean right hook.”

“So I’ve been told.”

They lie panting on the hot tarmac. Spy is in immeasurable pain, yet he feels… good? Satisfied, like this is the first thing he’s done right in a long time. He wonders if this is how parental feels.

“Think you could teach me that?” Scout asks.

Spy rolls onto his back and forces himself to sit upright. “Let’s get out of here, then I’ll consider teaching you how to punch.”

This is, of course, when Spy registers the rumbling approach of a car engine. He leans into the road to confirm: a large black car is driving up the road toward them. Scout follows his line of sight and begins to swear.

“Scout—”

Scout is already pulling Spy’s arm over his shoulder. “Nope.”

“Scout, listen to me—”

“No.”

“ Scout. They will be here any moment, the car is not working and I cannot run. You need to—”

“Need to what? ” Scout gestures to the road surrounding scrubland. “There's nowhere to hide, and I can't outrun a car! And, even if I could do something, I ain’t leaving you here to get killed.”

“Get under the car,” Spy finishes lamely. “I can distract them while you figure out what to do.”

“I said I ain’t—”

A black car pulls over behind theirs.

“I will find a way out of this,” Spy whispers, “It will be alright.”

“You're such a fuckin' liar,” Scout hisses back.

Spy squeezes his shoulder. “ Go. ”

Scout finally skirts around the side of the car when the Russian doors pop open. Spy takes a breath to sit up and compose himself, carefully opening a knife in each sleeve as two heavy sets of footsteps crunch across the gravel.

One of the hulking agents says something. Spy’s Russian isn’t fluent, but he picks out enough to know these people aren’t pleased about the car chase and dead coworkers.

“Lady,” he says cordially, “Gentleman. Weren’t there three of you?”

“And two of you,” the man replies. “It seems our missing comrades will have to find each other.”

Spy subtly shifts his weight off his injured leg. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Oh yes,” the woman says, cracking her knuckles with a grin. Her partner pulls a pistol from his pocket and levels it at Spy’s head.

“Small man,” he calls loudly, “If you run, I kill your friend.”

“We are hardly friends,” Spy mutters.

The man thumbs back the safety. “You have until three. One.”

“You are wasting your time. He went for help and will be miles away by now--”

“Two--”

Somewhere behind them, glass shatters. The woman jerks toward the sound, but the man does not so much as flinch.

“Ah,” the woman says, pulling an identical pistol from her own jacket, “There you are.”

She disappears from view, followed by the sound of several feet scuffling across dirt and broken glass. Someone yells, then gurgles; someone punches someone else hard enough to activate their gag reflex. The struggle ends, and one set of footsteps return.

Scout is dumped on the ground next to Spy. His front is covered in Russian arterial spray, and he immediately curls around his injured stomach and begins to wretch. Both agents step back to avoid the resulting stomach contents.

“Petrov is dead,” the woman says. She annoyed, rather than upset, about this turn of events. Apparently these agents are consummate professionals.

“Unfortunate,” the man replies, passing the woman his gun. “Put the body in this car and set it on fire.”

“ Don’t burn my stuff, ” Scout wheezes.

Spy rolls his eyes. “I will buy you a dozen new baseball bats if we survive this.”

“You will not,” the man says cheerfully.

Under the woman’s watchful aim, he moves Scout’s arms behind his back and cuffs them together. He does the same thing to Spy, then escorts him to the Russian car trunk with surprising care while his associate relocates “Petrov’s” body. Scout, who has apparently earned considerably rougher treatment, is unceremoniously dropped in next to him.

“We will be driving for the next few hours,” the man says, “Please be patient. Thank you for your cooperation.”

He slams the lid closed.

The trunk would be spacious enough for two grown men to lie head-to-toe in relative comfort if it weren’t also occupied by several large boxes. Spy is forced to hunch his knees up and curl his torso forward toward Scout’s chest. He can just make out Scout’s silhouette in the light filtering in from a gap in the tail light.

Scout groans.

“If you throw up on me, you will not live long enough to be tortured,” Spy says. He rolls his shoulders and bumps an arm against the trunk lid.

“You’re freakin’ welcome,” Scout replies.

“Oh yes, thank you so very much for getting me locked in a trunk with you. Stop squirming, there isn’t enough room.”

As usual, Scout completely ignores him and continues to fidget. “What are you complaining about? I saved your life.”

The car begins to cough. Spy holds a momentary hope that the engine was damaged during the chase, but it, too, ignores him and turns over. The wheels rolls along the gravel, then along the smoother asphalt as they drive back onto the road. “You had a chance to get away. One had to watch me, you could have taken them out individually.”

“After they killed you, right?”

“I am incapacitated and the car will not work. One of us getting out was the best case scenario, and since ‘incapacitated’ means ‘unable to run from Russian hit men’, it was meant to be you .” Spy grunts as Scout headbutts his chest. “Would you stop moving?”

“Hold on a sec.”

“There are no more seconds to hold on to!” Spy sighs heavily. “I was prepared to die for you, you imbecile.”

“Whoa. Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” Spy attempts to find a more comfortable position for his shoulders. He fails miserably, just as he seems to have failed at so many things. “Your mother wants us to be a family. Until recently I thought it was impossible, and now that I would like to try, we are out of time.”

“You…?” Scout clears his throat in a way that doesn’t actually cover his cracking voice. “I thought you hated me.”

“I cannot honestly say that I like you, but no, I do not hate you.”

The tires grind against the uneven road. Spy wonders how much can be said in the handful of hours they have left.

“I don’t hate you either,” Scout says quietly.

Spy smiles humorlessly. “It’s amazing how easy it is to be honest at the end of one’s life.”

Scout clears his throat again. “Yeah, no. I don’t like that.”

There’s a click, and a moment later something smacks Spy hard enough to jerk his head to the side. “ Merde! ” He swears, more surprised than hurt.

“Whoops. Where’s your hands, asshole? We’re bustin’ out of here.”

“Did you just slap me? ” Spy asks incredulously.

“Nah, I turned upside-down when you weren’t looking and kicked you in the face. Of course I slapped you, you freakin’ drama queen.” Scout starts patting down Spy’s shoulders. “Calm the fuck down.”

“ I am calm!”

“Make peace with your maker in silence,” someone yells from the cabin.

They freeze. Spy takes a deep breath to center himself as Scout cautiously continues the search for his hands. “I am calm. Please explain.”

Scout jingles something. Spy can just make out his grin in the murky darkness. “Got the keys.”

“I see.” Deep breaths, in and out. “And where did you get them?”

“The lady’s pocket, when she was carrying me back to the car.” Scout finally locates Spy’s bound hands and shoves something into the locking mechanism, twisting it about until the cuffs pop open. “Couldn’t have got them if I’d run.”

Spy rubs his wrists where the handcuffs bit in. “No, I suppose you couldn’t have,” he replies. “Does this plan of yours have further details?”

“Yep,” Scout says, army-crawling into the mess of boxes. “Get the keys, get dumped in the trunk, use the keys to get free. Then--” He makes a triumphant noise and shoves an assortment of things into Spy’s chest. “Use the stuff I stashed before killing the Rooski to get in some batting and shooting practice.”

Spy examines the things he’s holding. It’s Scout’s scattergun which, upon inspection, comes fully loaded and with almost a dozen rounds of ammunition. He has no idea how Scout managed to hide all this in the time between Spy’s capture and killing the Russian agent. For once, he doesn’t care to question it.

“I got into the car through the backseat armrest last time,” Scout says, draping his bat over his shoulder. “You up for it?”

It’s a challenge. Trapped in a Russian car trunk in the middle of the god-forsaken state of Florida with his occasionally clever son, Spy grins and cracks the shotgun’s chamber back into place. “I could be persuaded.”

It takes a full week to drive their newly acquired car way back to base. Spy limps to Miss Pauling’s office under his own power because he’ll be damned before he shows weakness in front of his own team.

“Did it go well?” Miss Pauling asks during debriefing. Both her eyebrows have crept up her forehead as she takes them in their grungey clothing and motley collection of injuries.

“Yes,” Spy replies.

“We escaped and are still alive,” Scout says with a wide grin.

“Mikhail betrayed us,” Spy elaborates, “Apparently he is upset with RED setting monsters on his organization.”

Miss Pauling jots something down on her clipboard. “The Administrator thought that might be the case. Thank you for looking into it.” She eyes their assorted injuries. “Do you require medical attention?”

“Nothing more than a moment with the medigun,” Spy says quickly. They’d robbed a pharmacy on the way home for supplies to stabilize Spy’s leg, and after learning about the energy drink experiments, Spy finds himself strangely opposed to leaving Scout in Medic’s dubious care. Will wonders never cease?

“Alright then. You can submit your reports tomorrow, go ahead and turn in.”

Spy gives his thanks and leaves so Scout can kiss Miss Pauling’s cheek in goodbye. “What on Earth does she see in you,” he asks as they hobble towards the residential hall.

“Dunno,” Scout says good-naturedly. “Also fuck you.”

Spy thinks of his own relationship with Scout’s mother. To be honest, he doesn’t know what such a beautiful and terrifying woman sees in him either. The only explanation is that he passed on some kind of charm and luck to the next generation. The thought is warming. “Fuck you too,” he replies fondly.

Epilogue:

Spy stakes out an armchair at the common room table early the next morning, supplying himself a full cup of coffee and the extended edition of the morning paper for cover. Sniper’s schedule on their days off can be unpredictable --Spy has known his to rise with the sun, but has also known him to sleep until noon and stay up until the next sunrise-- and he doesn’t want to miss him.

Sure enough, Sniper makes his appearance an hour later. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt and ratty jeans (two of the few casual clothing items he owns) and, for some unfathomable reason, his dirty hat and outdated sunglasses. Spy has only seen him take them off in sleep and death. He perhaps thinks it makes him look professional, which says something grievous about the man’s sense of style.

Sniper wanders into the kitchen and pulls a jar of something Australian down from the shelves. Spy surreptitiously watches him rummage through the fridge, presumably looking for bread to put in the toaster, then fill the coffee pot Spy purposefully left empty. He chooses the bland, American blend when the clearly superior European style roast is right next to it on the shelf. Poor taste in weapons, poor taste in clothes, poor taste in coffee; Sniper is a conglomerate of bad decisions piled into the shape of a man with a hat. No wonder Scout is so thoroughly charmed.

The door slams open, causing Sniper to fumble the coffee container and spill half the grounds into the sink. Good riddance.

“Yo Spy,” Scout calls, jogging across the room as Sniper swears about the coffee on his ‘last good jumper’.

“...good morning,” Spy says.

Scout slings himself into an adjacent chair. “Guess what I got in the mail.”

“I do not care.”

Scout extracts a few papers from his pocket. They are wrinkled from storage in his disgusting pants, but still creased into the distinct tri-fold of something sent in an envelope. “You’ll never guess.”

Spy fixes Scout with his least impressed stare and takes a long, deliberate sip of his coffee. “A letter,” he says at length.

“Jackass,” Scout says affably. “Yeah, a letter. It’s from your gay Russian buddy.”

Spy feels his eyebrows creep upwards. “What does he want?”

“He says he wants to tell me embarrassing stories about when you guys were together.”

“What? ”

Scout jerks the papers back before Spy can grab them. “ Dear Scout ,” he reads, “ I write in the hopes of introducing myself, since there was no opportunity to do so at our last meeting. I hope you’ll excuse my lack of manners --ooo, there’s a semicolon here, fuckin’ fancy-- as I’d been sent to kill you and couldn’t risk letting down the appearance of professionalism.”

Spy reaches over the side table for the letter. Scout braces a foot against the floor and tips his armchair sideways to keep them out of reach.

“ In the name of the good relations I’d like to build between us, I will hazard a guess: if I know your ‘coworker’, and I like to think I do, he will not have given any details about his life. Twenty-seven years is a long time to go with no information about one’s ‘coworker’.”

“Stop that,” Spy snaps, shoving Scout’s foot out from under him. The chair over-balances and thumps to the floor; Scout somehow bounces to his feet and dances just out of Spy’s increasingly desperate reach.

“For instance, ” Scout continues mercilessly, jogging backwards as Spy storms toward him, “You probably don’t know that he has a terrible snore. It can be heard down the hall with the door closed. He takes great pains to silence himself, lest any bunkmates learn of this terrible secret.”

“Scout,” Spy hisses in warning.

“And that he has a tattoo on his lower back --holy shit, Spy, you got a tramp stamp?! -- from overestimating his alcohol tolerance during a mission. Charmingly, it’s in the shape of a--”

Finally giving up the pretense of composure, Spy tackles his son into the couch. They grapple violently for the letter (growing up with seven brothers seems to have made Scout prone to biting) until Spy manages to twist Scout’s arm behind his back and forcibly pry the papers out of his hand.

“You will not speak of this,” Spy says, “Nor will you answer it--”

“Already did,” Scout says with a grin.

Spy makes a noise of disgust and shoves Scout’s head between the cushions. It muffles Scout’s laughter but, infuriatingly, doesn’t stop it.

“S’not a bad thing,” says Sniper, who naturally chooses this moment to re-materialize from the kitchen to lean against the common room wall with his stupid ‘#1 Sniper’ mug in hand. “You okay there, kiddo?”

Scout says something about not being able to breathe

“You’re fine,” Spy snaps, “And you will not speak of this either, bushman.”

Sniper remains unaffected. “I’m serious. You were never gonna tell him anything, right?”

“Of course not.”

“Now you’ve got something to talk about, and a few embarrassing stories are a good start to being a better dad.”

Scout makes a long series of outraged noises. Spy catches “oh my god” and “what the fuck” and “does he fuckin’ know?” and “why am I the last person to know about this?!” before Scout finally passes out from the oxygen deprivation.

“You’re gonna kill him,” Sniper says off-handedly.

“He’s fine,” Spy says again, “Explain yourself.”

He shrugs. “Meant what I said. You owe your kid something for running off. He can get to know you and have a laugh at the same time.”

Spy considers this. This certainly isn’t what he would have chosen, but Sniper has a point. “You suggest I allow an internationally known assassin to correspond with my son . In the hopes that it will bring us together?”

Sniper takes a long drink from his mug. It’s the same gesture Spy used earlier. Spy knows it, and he’s certain Sniper knows he knows.

“I don’t like you,” Spy says.

“Don’t care,” Sniper replies between sips, “Wanna tell me why you were watching me?”

Spy finally releases his grip on the back of Scout’s head and pulls him out of the couch. Once he’s sure Scout is still alive, he turns back to the conversation. “I was trying to understand what Scout sees in you.”

Sniper raises an eyebrow.

“I did not find anything worth understanding, but he seems to enjoy your company for some reason. Perhaps that is enough.” Spy straightens his tie. “Do try to be less of a bad influence, hmm?”

“I’m not a--”

“Make sure he does not die,” he says, straightening his tie. “ Au revoir , bushman; au bientot , Scout.”

“Bye,” Scout replies woozily.

Spy takes his leave as Sniper props Scout into a sitting position. The door closes on Sniper informing Scout that’s he’s fine, Scout mumbling something about hearing that a lot lately.

The door closes behind him. Spy lights a cigarette from his case, breathes in the smoke, and lets it slowly hiss back out. There is no fighting today. Perhaps he will pay the good doctor a visit to discuss his ‘energy drink’ experiments.

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karinakamichi · 5 years

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It Is What It Is Chapter 12 - Fued

(Beware of discussion of self-harm)

"Al, there's something I... There's something we need to talk about."

Alphonse had always wanted Edward to open up to him, but, now, Alphonse, could only feel dread. It was somehow ironic, really, but, despite wanting to be there for Edward, he had never felt more apart and insecure. What if it was something that he couldn't help him with after all? Without his body, he had most certainly lost certain aspects of his humanity.

But even so, Alphonse refused to leave his brother's side. Even if there were certain things that he couldn't help with, he could at least listen. It was something that he'd always been good at. Besides, it was difficult to know what actions to take if he didn't know what was wrong.

They were standing in Riza's house. Mustang hadn't felt like going straight back to his office and immediately being bombarded with paperwork again, and, for once, Riza felt there was something more important and urgent to deal with right this minute, so she offered to let them go to her place, since it was closer than Mustang's to the station.

A neighbor had been looking after Black Hayate while Riza was gone, but as soon as Riza stepped in the door, the dog was by her side licking her hand. The neighbor soon left after Riza thanked her for looking after him. It was quite evident that Black Hayate was happy to see all of them, as he tried to kiss each one of them.

However, when he went over to Edward, the boy couldn't help feel uncomfortable as the dog began to sniff his non-automail arm. Alphonse noticed it, but didn't think too much at first, until Riza scolded the dog. That's when he wondered if there was something wrong with Edward's arm. Dogs had very keen noses, and Black Hayate had been trained for that kind of thing, so it couldn't be nothing. Or maybe he really was just overthinking it?

After Riza had got Black Hayate situated, she had sat down at the table, him by her side, followed by Roy and Edward. Alphonse opted to keep standing.

The table was silent for a while as Mustang and Riza waited for Edward to speak.

"Edward, isn't there something you should be telling Alphonse right now…?" Riza urged in a soft voice, but she wasn't being condescending.

"I…" Edward trailed off into silence, feeling nervous, and sick to his stomach. He could feel Mustang's eyes on him, expecting him to speak. "Can you promise me something, Al…?"

"What is it?" Alphonse asked in concern.

Edward felt like the words were caught in his throat. He let his bangs shadow his eyes. "Promise you won't hate me…"

Alphonse was immediately taken aback by Edward's request. Edward and him may have occasional disputes, but they always worked things out in the end. So why would Edward say something like that? A small part of him couldn't even help but wonder if this had something to do with his missing body, but he pushed that thought aside.

"What are you talking about? Even if we may disagree on things sometimes, I could never hate you, brother." He said.

At hearing that, Edward felt a pang of guilt.

I've been cutting.

Three simple words and he couldn't say them. Because, together, they would hurt Alphonse, and Edward didn't want that. And on top of that, it would spark up conversation with his brother that Edward wanted to avoid more than anything, but he knew he needed to tell Alphonse, so it would be off his chest and Roy and Riza would be satisfied.

That's when he decided to show Alphonse instead of telling him. It would be much easier anyway, since he'd never been good with words.

So, slowly, he pulled back his sleeve and despite his hesitance, he continued and began unraveling some of the bandages, flinching a bit at the pain. When a fair amount of the cuts were revealed, Alphonse was in disbelief. There were so many of them and they were so deep!

All those times that Edward had said his arm was twisted… this was the truth? He had been lying?

"What… are those?" Alphonse asked, yet a huge part of him didn't want to hear the answer. "Who did that to you?"

Edward felt his blood go cold, as he looked away with guilt. So despite everything, Alphonse really was just a child. He had never thought of the concept of self-harm, before. "I..."

"He's been cutting..." Roy answered simply, knowing that Edward wouldn't be able to bring himself to speak after that, or at least not answer Alphonse's question. But it wasn't like Edward hadn't done enough. Roy actually found respect for Edward for having to the courage to be able to bring himself to show his cuts.

"Cutting...?" Alphonse repeated, before it finally dawned on him what they were trying to say, and what he had missed in his observation of his brother for so long. "You mean... he did that to himself?"

Mustang's and Riza's grim expressions confirmed it. Edward sunk even further in on himself.

"Brother, why didn't you tell me anything...?" Alphonse's voice was weaker than ever, but carried the tone of somebody who felt betrayed.

"Because I couldn't... I was afraid that you would be mad at me..." Edward muttered, even weaker than Alphonse's voice.

"Well, you're damn right I'm mad...!" Alphonse said, a little harsher than intended, catching their attention. Edward's eyes widened with pain. Of course, it wasn't like he hadn't expected it, though. "But I'm not mad over the fact you've been hurting yourself, I'm mad because you lied to me about this, Ed. We're brothers, aren't we? We're supposed to be there for each other! So why didn't you come talk to me for once in your stupid life, instead of simply telling me that you had twisted your arm?"

In truth, Alphonse was less mad, and more frustrated than anything else over having been unable to do anything to prevent things from getting this far. Furthermore, he was scared. Terrified, in fact, of the possibility of finding Edward dead in a pile of his own blood one day. "So is this... my fault...?"

"Of course not, Al...!" Edward insisted. "None of this is your fault...! I just..." He turned his head away to avoid facing any of them. "don't know how to deal with things sometimes... It... helps me…"

"How does tearing your skin to pieces help? You could have died! Or is that what you actually want? To die and leave me on my own? Because that's something I won't allow! We promised we'd get each other our bodies back and stick by each other's side!" Alphonse wasn't usually the most expressive person, but for some reason, he found that he couldn't just drop it. All of the stress that had been piling up over the last few weeks and even months was finally reaching its peak.

Edward felt a worse pang of guilt than before. Alphonse had no clue that Edward actually had almost died. "I'm sorry..."

At hearing Edward's low apology, Alphonse grew silent for a moment, feeling guilty suddenly for snapping at his brother like that, before speaking in a less harsh voice than before. "No, I should be the one apologizing..."

This confused Edward, as he looked up at him with pain-filled eyes. "But why? I'm the one who's been hurting myself. You have every right to be upset…"

"Even so, I should have noticed something, before it got this bad... I've known you long enough that I should have been able to prevent it. Yet I never saw how bad you were suffering..." Alphonse looked down, feeling incredibly conflicted. All this time, he had had suspicion that something else was wrong, but he had wanted to trust his Brother's words, yet he had been naive, and failed to see through his act.

Edward smiled sadly. "You're so kind to people, Al. You always try to keep things cordial even when I'm nothing but I huge jerk. You've always been that way, ever since we were kids. But you're my little brother. I can't just come running to you every time I'm upset about something or every time I get a cut or bruise. Besides, I was the one hiding it from you, you can't blame yourself for that."

"You're wrong, Ed..." Alphonse mumbled. "It doesn't matter which one of us is older. All that matters is that we support each other. I want to be there for you...!"

Edward was silent for a moment as if he was considering his words, before he broke his gaze away from Alphonse, turning his head away.

"...This isn't your burden to bear, Al..." he uttered in a low voice, not able to bring himself to admit reliance on his brother.

Something snapped in Alphonse's mind at this point. Edward was always rushing off and doing reckless things, while trying to bear everything on his shoulders, but this was by far one of the worst decisions he'd ever made. As if he'd allow him to continue down this harmful and reckless path.

"Well, why shouldn't it be? After everything we've been through together, doesn't it mean anything to you? Don't you trust me?!"

"Of course I do!" Edward insisted. "I just..."

"You just what? Because from what I can tell, you don't!" Alphonse snapped.

Black Hayate had began to wine a bit, nuzzling Riza's leg, as he sensed the hostility in the room. It was at this moment that Riza stood up. "That's enough, both of you. I think it would best if you two separated for a bit."

Roy and Riza both understood that Alphonse had needed to get this off of his chest, and that Edward needed to hear that Alphonse was worried about him, not mad at him. However, it was also apparent that Edward and Alphonse both did need some time apart after this, or they would only make things worse. Because she could see error from both of their parts and that things would only get more stressful if she allowed it to continue.

"I need some time alone. I'll be back later." Alphonse simply murmured, turning to leave.

"Wait, Al...!" Edward tried to get up, but Roy reached out, grabbing his hand to stop him.

They exchanged glances, and Roy gave him a look that told Edward to sit back down, and surprisingly he didn't protest.

Alphonse glanced back at him one last time, conflicted, but knew if he stayed, he might say or do something he'd regret. So he simply left the house.

"Edward, are you alright?" Riza asked softly, kneeling down slightly beside him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Edward mumbled, not turning to look at her. The pain in his eyes and voice was obvious.

Riza gave a pained smile. "You don't have to lie, you know…"

Edward, however, didn't respond, obviously still focused on the argument he just had with his brother.

"Hey," she said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Hm?" Edward briefly glanced at her this time.

"I'm going to talk to Alphonse a bit. I want you to stay here with Roy, okay?"

"Okay…" Edward didn't particularly like the idea of being with Roy alone for long, but decidedly didn't protest.

"No fighting while I'm gone, you two." Riza said.

"Right, I'm sure I can keep from biting Fullmetal's head off for up to at least half an hour." Roy joked.

Edward smirked a bit, albeit incredibly weakly at hearing that.

Riza smirked a bit herself, before heading out after Alphonse.

- End of Chapter

(You can read the full story so far at Ao3, Fanfiction.net, Wattpad, and Inkitt)

#edward elric #alphonse elric #riza hawkeye #Roy Mustang #parental roy #mama hawk #fmab #fanfiction #fma #Fullmetal Alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #self-harm #mental health awareness #cutting #royai #edwin #only tagged those pairings #because the story itself contains those pairings

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