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insufferablelust · 4 years

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Revelation (Spencer x Reader)

imagine thats Older!Spencer :)

Warnings : Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, heavy daddy kink, belting, shameless smut, a bit of size kink i suppose, pet names, degradastion by name calling, punishment, squirting, gagging, just a dirty dirty daddy Spencer smut, subspace and huge fluff! and reader is his goddess. :)

Masterlist Here.

All you could feel was exhaustion, exhaustion that lingered from the very tip of your skin to the rattling of your bones. The soft musk of Spencer’s scent filled the room so nicely, bringing you to an edge of calmness, you are home— with your love, your baby, your daddy.

You smiled as you tug your scarf down , placing it gently above the couch before you call out to the very man that owns your body and soul, “Spence?” the exhaustion was prominent in your voice, even though tried to brush it off.

“In here, kitten! wait a sec.” He yelled, jogging down from the kitchen to where you were sitting at the couch, He smiled tenderly with the kitchen towel perched on his shoulder, he looked so domestic, so much of the boyfriend-ness of him yet the way he holds himself is daddy, your daddy.

He immediately gathered you up on his arm, plopping down next to you and bring you to straddle his waist, “So pretty, so so pretty, i miss you, kitten.” He whispered, pressing a delicate kiss on your lips as his hand rest on your throat- the very side of your pulse.

You giggled a little, nipping his lower lip, pulling back only to whisper a tiny “i miss you..” kiss “daddy.” Heaven is what you are, he thinks. Because here he is, having the knowledge of everything, absolutely everything this word has to possibly offer yet.. nothing, nothing feel as complete as you. as having you perched on his lap, being good.. such a good little girl.

“Look at me.” His voice changed a little, it was deeper, huskier that it caused the sweet nectar flowing down south from the heat of your belly. God, your eyes snapped to his.. your socks covered feet tucked under his knees as he gently, just gently press his palm against your pulse, tightening his grasp— not enough to choke you yet enough to draw a pleasure filled gasp emitting from your sinful lips. “daddy—“

“Shush, been a good girl, haven’t you?” He cooed gently, his other hand slide itself around your waist to gently rub your back with calming warmth. “Uh huh.. The test went well today..” You murmured, eyes still focusing to his as you latched onto his strong arms.

You are 10 years his junior, you practically met when he was holding a lecture on the academy where you trained to be an agent.. an FBI agent just like him. The first gaze you laid upon each other, ignited the fire like no other, the desire and lust and.. gentle itching feeling of blossoming crush embedded deep inside both of your insides, practically screaming at yourselves to just.. get to know each other.

Getting to know each other, you did. It started off as a nervous filled dates, though he was a proper gentleman, bringing you on classic dates to libraries where you would borrow books you both haven’t read or something you just want to read and then reading it together on the window sill. Your first kiss was over a cup of coffee perched on the sill with Anna Karenina on your lap and Russian Literature on his, the kiss was magnificent that you were sure that if soulmates were real, he was— is your soulmate.

The first time you were intimate with each other was a rather cliche experience, cliche and romantic. After the 5th official date where he asked you to be his, you both went to his place which funnily was only a block away from where your apartment building sits. Rounds and rounds, you both savored the moment like you were made for each other; Ares & Aphrodite, Apollo & Calliope, Orpheus & Eurydice. The first one was gentle, desire filled love making against the bed, where he touched your skin like he touched your soul, where he kissed your lips like he kissed your fluttering heart, where he thrusts into you like a mad man, your mad man.

The next round varies, from the one where you were both on the edge of the bed when you accidentally slipped out the word “daddy.” which only made him thrust harder with an impossibly loud groans of “Call me that again—fuck!”. There was one where he choked you, fucking the soul out of you that you both ended up on the floor— not even bothering to stop by then. After the 4th round, you were both spent.. spent and absolutely basked in heavenly reality— reality that will always engulf you both.. Soulmates.

“You’ll nail it, i know you will, daddy knows best doesn’t he?” He chuckled, but his gaze darken, his grip tighten, and his head.. his head tilted in a mocking way, not mocking your ability of course but rather.. ‘Daddy Knows Best, Doesn’the?’ You knew then he found out, found your dirty dirty little secret that you tried to keep hidden (or at least for the most part)

You see, a week ago, Spencer left for a case— a pretty short one though you were desperate every time you separated from each other. You missed him so much, missed spencer but also.. you miss your daddy, your rock, your dominant. You missed his touch, missed his cock, missed his kisses, fuck you missed him so much that you were willing to break one of his most important rule. ‘No touching yourself without daddy’s sole permission, and no cumming without his permission too.’

You knew you could’ve asked, could’ve begged for him to make you cum over the phone but you couldn’t.. one part because you knew he was busy, and you had to wait at least until midnight to get him to call you.. but the other part of you, the nasty brat he calls it, was eager to be punished, to be settled back on its place. You craved the way his palm.. those genius palm slapped your ass and cunt raw until they sting so painfully that you knew you wouldnt be able to sit down tomorrow. You craved the way you were on the brink of consciousness as his hand choke your neck like he owns you.. and yeah.. he truly owns you.

So you did the most obvious, you touched yourself, you came without his permission, and you used the new vibrators he specifically asked you to not use it until he comes back. 3 rules broken and you were happy.. giddy about it. But know that he knew, you felt.. almost guilty, lust still covered you, the severe thrill still clouds you but you feel guilty, guilty that you have disappointed your daddy.

“Daddy, I—“

“Shh, Good girls gets to speak, Brats like you gets nothing.” He hissed, demeanor changed 180 as his grip tighten as much as he could and his palm goes from giving you calmness to slap your ass cheeks like you were his punching bag. You mewled and whined, before he hoist you up his arm, to move both of you to the bedroom.

“Gonna show you just what nasty desperate kittens like you get, gonna ruin you like a rag doll.” Thrown you into the bed like a rag doll is exactly what he did, you bounced a little before propping your body with your elbows to watch him sauntered over to the closer. “Was going to make you a nice dinner pet, romantic and shit, but you just had to be a slut.. for daddy huh?” He said from the closet, making you bit your lip in guilt.

“Please daddy, i’m sorry!”

“Told you to stay fucking quiet.” He rasped, pulling a few things from the closet, then making his way back to where you were laid, clothes already off. “But, i was just—“ He cuts you off by pinching your nipples hard as he placed a handcuff, a belt, and a gag— a ring gag to be exact.

“Since you can’t keep your filthy whore mouth shut, i’m going to place this—“ He grabbed the gag, carefully scurrying it around your head, “There you go, looking like a cute slutty brat that you are.” He pats your head, before securing the handcuffs around your wrist up above your head.

“Aw my baby drooling already? You’re practically begging to get your face fucked, princess.” He cooed, god he’s so different in private like this, he knows every one of your weak spots, every word that makes your heart leaps and your pussy clenched, every damn move and touches that have you begging for more, yearning for more, and being so needy over it. A man like Spencer, thrived in the feeling of having control over something for extensive amount of time, he doesn’t mind not being the typical alpha male on the streets, but here in his sheets every night— he’s the predator, and you my darling, is his frail prey.

The only thing you could let out is a pathetic mewl as he slapped the skin of your gorgeous breasts, his gaze hungry as he trailed them down your body, your gorgeous curves, it almost as if he’s worshipping every damn mark and inch of skin— silently thanking whoever made you possible for how your body just as it is.

“beautiful, could be eating you out right now, but you decided to be bad.” He tsk’d, causing you to whimper and buck your hips which he slapped your thigh for, “No buckin’ up on daddy. Be good.”

Be good,

Be good, Y/N.

Suddenly, suddenly your eyes droops just a little, you were still so still you held in your breath, your cheeks warmth as you feel yourself entering the very very fuzzy space where the only thing that exists is Y/N and Daddy. Be good, she has to be good for him because she has disappointed him again for being a— your thought were cut short as he cup your cheek, noticing how your body language changes, your daddy always knows after all.

“Shh, you’re good princess. hey are you with me? want me to stop? take the gag off, little one?” He cooed, as you momentarily shake your head with such eager, gesturing for him that no.. no you don’t want him to stop, you did a bad naughty thing and you need to be punished. Spencer has spent all his time studying your behavior, your every little detail— expression, body language, every damn thing to know just what it is you want, you need, you.. crave.

“Alright but if you feel any discomfort you’ll tap daddy with your legs okay? you can even kick him, daddy won’t mind..” He chuckled, which earned a strangled laugh from you— “Oh go and speak now angel, love watching you all messy and drooly.” He laughed, before flipping you so that you were laid face down with your ass up as your hips being propped up by a pillow.

Crack!

So sudden , it was so sudden, the loud impact sound of his belt against your skin echoed on the very walls of your room. Your head thrown back as your saliva steadily running down your chin, your eyes breaming with tears, and you let out a very very adorable strangled cries. “Fuck, thats it, take it, take your punishment and maybe, just maybe daddy’ll be a little lenient towards you tonight.”

Crack!

You didn’t count, you lost track of how many times the harsh leather has hit your skin, now burning with tremendous guilt and burning lustful desire. Your tears soaked the pillow case like a damn river, yet he didn’t relent not until he felt like you’ve learned your lesson.

and honestly.. you wouldn’t ask for anything else.

“Pretty girl, so so good for daddy shh, come here.” He wrapped you up in his arms as he remove the gag and handcuffs altogether, you were a panting drooly mess as he presses tiny loving kisses on your forehead— body completely engulfing you in his warmth. “D-daddy.. am i.. am i forgiven?” You hiccups, looking up at him to seek for comfort.. for his forgiveness, his his his.

“Oh sweetheart, i wasn’t mad at you, was just putting you back on your place. You’re so so good for me.” he cooed, gently easing you up his lap, trailing his fingers from your hair down to your arms, your tummy, and heading further south. “I love you daddy... thank you for correcting me.”

Spencer could drown, drown inside your pretty eyes, just get lost in it forever, until he suffocates and die a happy man. He would be the prisoner in your version of heaven no doubt, he was never a religious man, but if there’s a higher power— it’s you, a damn goddess— his true revelation.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Let me take care of you okay?” He whispered, positioning you properly, your back against his chest, your head adorably tucked under his chin, and your thighs spread with his knees below yours. You were a giggling mess, hazy in your space but so so drunk on pleasure, “Please please please!” You whimpered greedily, trying to grind down on his bare cock.

“Patience is virtue, angel. Let’s get you nice and ready hm? know you’re too tight to take all of me.” He whispered, which resulted in you yelling— cutting him off a little way too loudly.

“But i can! i can take it, daddy! please let me show you!” God you didn’t know what you did to him, what your damn gorgeous eyes did to his psyche, to his cock. Begging like that, making him wants to ruin you, making him wants to release the very very hungry beast inside of him— ruin ruin ruin you oh so beautifully.

“Alright, you asked for it. Don’t go blabbing about being too full, you brat.” He smacked your thigh before positioning his hard, thick hard long cock on your entrance, slowly pushing his impossible length up your tummy. “Oh! oh oh! daddy!” You cried, cried and mewled like a kitten.

His length was not even halfway in and yet you were filled so fully that your head spins. “Take it, just a lil more, doing so good.” He rasps, feeling your cunt impossibly tight around his cock, warm and snug. “Please daddy...” You whimpered, not even know what the pleading was for but you pleads for him— with him.

When he finally got all his length stuffed deep inside your weepy cunt, his mouth nip and bite at the skin of your neck, trying to hold back the grunts as he moves slowly, thrusting up to your tight cunt.

“Fuck so damn tight, kitten.” You shuddered as the tip of his cock hit your spot perfectly, he was in so deep that all the sound that dripped from your lip was ‘ah! ah ah! d-‘

“Take it, take it, take it.” Was all he chanted as he settled you so you seated up right on his lap, before bouncing you up and down his length. Spencer was deeper this way, way way deep inside your walls, massaging every pulsing need you’ve held for awhile.

“So big! so— oh! please daddy faster!” You moaned wantonly, bouncing yourself up and down his cock, gasping as he places his palm on your tummy where the imprint his cock nestled deep inside you was so prominent that he cried out loud. “Feel it huh? feel it deep inside your tummy?”

“Yes yes yes oh fuck! S-Spencer!” You knew just how much he loves it when you moaned his name, so even in your fuzzy space, you moaned it, because you love him and he was practically fucking the living soul outta you. “I love you— fuck me i love you, gonna cum hm?” He whispered, moving his hand down, down down down then pressing his thumb on your clit to rub it.

“Daddy no! no i-i’ll make a mess!” Of course he knows this, knows that the burn on your ass constantly slapping against his thigh turns you on like nothing else, knows that his cock was filling you up so good that you could practically feel him inside your throat, knows that the rubbing of his thumb will have you squirting on his cock in no time.

“But daddy— shit, daddy wants you to make a mess, go on little one.. make a big mess.” And so you did, you did hard— squirting on his cock like river was streaming down your cunt, your walls pulses around his cock like a vibrator and the grip was like vice, sending him to absolute bliss himself— cumming inside you shortly after as you shake and writhe above him.

“I love you Y/N fuck— fuck i love you so fucking much.” He fucked you through your and his orgasm like a mad man, burying his face on your neck as his cum was buried inside your cunt. You were panting so hard, body still shaking as he leave trail of kisses on the column of your throat before tilting your head to kiss your lips softly.

“D-Daddy?” You meekly whispered, lips trembling as you spoke after he hummed, “can you stay inside? want to keep you inside please..”

And who’s Spencer Reid to deny his goddess’s wishes

xx,d

#insufferableblurb #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #daddy!spencer #dom!spencer #dom!spencer x sub!reader #mgg smut #matthew gray gubler smut #smut #criminal minds smut

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ray-ray-writings · 3 years

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Catch Me If I Fall-Technoblade

This is a Technoblade x gn!reader in the dreamsmp

Check out my Masterlist here

What was supposed to be a simple mining trip goes horribly wrong when Y/N doesn’t pay attention to their surroundings.

Y/N’s POV

“Be careful” Techno warned, pressing a kiss to my forehead and then one to my lips. I couldn’t help the smile that graced my face, “Will do,” I responded softly, kissing my boyfriend once more before checking to make sure I had all I needed for my trip. Food, wood, torches, and my netherite pickaxe.

When Techno and I had moved out of L’Manberg, a lot of his things were taken before we could pack it up, including his many stacks of diamonds. Techno had a lot to do at our new snowy home, so I offered to go mining for us. Techno was hesitant at first, but after assuring him multiple times I would be fine, he agreed and made me an enchanted netherite pickaxe that had Efficiency V, Fortune III, Unbreaking III, and Mending on it so that it would let me mine faster and wouldn’t break in the middle of my trip.

“You have everything?” Techno asked softly. I nodded with a bright smile, “I do!” I chirped brightly. “Okay… I’ll see you in a few hours?” I hummed in confirmation, “I’ll see you in a few hours.” Techno leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against my lips, I immediately kissed back. A few moments passed before I forced myself to pull away, knowing I would never leave if I didn’t. “I love you so much” I murmured to the pink haired man. A soft blush fell on Techno’s cheeks. Techno pulled me in for a quick hug, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “I love you too, love. More than you’ll ever know.”

Techno released me from the hug causing me to let out a sigh. I took a few steps down into the mine before turning and waving to my boyfriend who remained at the tops of the steps. He immediately smiled softly and waved back. “Bye baby” “Bye love”. Another sigh escaped my lips as I turned back around and continued down the steps, further into the earth.

It didn’t take me too long to get to level 12. I immediately got to work on strip mining. I hit many patches of coal, redstone, iron, and many other ores, but no diamonds. I had been down in the mine for about an hour at this point and had yet to find what I actually came down here for. Which is why I was so excited when the next piece of stone I removed opened a hole to a ravine.

I slightly thanked whoever was above for this. This is the break I was looking for. I quickly removed the other piece of stone that blocked my path and immediately rushed into the ravine. I looked around, making sure to note where the lava was so that I didn’t accidentally walk into it or fall. I quickly decorated my opening with torches so I would be able to tell where I came from so I wouldn’t get lost. After only a few moments in the ravine, I found what I was looking for. “DIAMONDS!” I screeched in victory, rushing toward the patch embedded in the wall of the ravine.

I quickly mined the diamonds and watched with glee as they kept going. Once I was done with the patch, I had acquired 24 diamonds. I let out an excited squeal as I moved further down the ravine to search for more. Another patch came into view and I ran up to it with excitement. I was so absorbed in my excitement of finding diamonds, that I didn’t hear the drop behind me. Maybe had I heard the telltale sizzling of the creeper that had fallen behind, I wouldn’t have taken so much damage. But I didn’t. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. The creeper had exploded, sending me forward into the stone hole I had made. My face smashed off of the hard wall and much like the creeper, my back exploded in pain. I couldn’t help the scream that escaped my lips at the blast.

I took a few moments to take some deep breaths before slowly standing up and crawling out of the hole. My legs shook under my weight. “Oh fuck,” I breathed out, my eyes scanning the ravine. A lot of mobs had spawned. A lot of them were ignoring me, but due to the explosion, some had turned to look and found me. As fast as I could, which wasn’t very fast, I turned and limped back toward where I came from, my eyes scanning the wall for my torches.

The sound of footsteps hitting the ground sounded behind me as mobs dropped from above to chase me. My breath quickly as I slowly began to panic. Icy hot fear ran through me as I realized one fatal thing that I had forgotten on my journey. A sword. A bow. An axe. Literally any weapon to protect myself. I forgot it. I didn’t think that I would need it… I’m so dumb sometimes.

The groan of a zombie grew closer and closer. A sharp pain shot through my shoulder as something hit it. I let out a whimper as I turned around and found a zombie right behind me. I took a deep breath and punched the zombie as hard as I could, causing it to stumble back, giving me enough time to escape.

My eyes caught sight of the many torches that outlined my entrance to the ravine causing me to almost cry in relief. I whimpered as I limped faster toward my safe haven, but once again, a sharp pain shot through my shoulder. This pain though caused me to scream. I looked at my shoulder and found an arrow sticking through it, almost causing me to faint. I willed the thought away, knowing that if I did faint, I was a goner and would lose a life. I gritted my teeth and threw myself in the hole I created earlier, immediately turning around to block the path with cobblestone.

Once I knew I was safe, I allowed the tears that had built in my eyes to fall. Everything hurt so much. I had such a long walk back to the stairs out of the mine and then I would have to walk 50 blocks up and 50 blocks home. I placed down a single piece of cobble and took a seat to try and compose myself. I pulled out some of the food I had packed from my inventory.

As I ate, my hand brushed against my nose and when I pulled it away, blood coated my hand letting me know my nose was in fact bleeding from the impact of the wall. The food helped me feel a tiny, and I really mean tiny, bit better. I mentally assessed what was happening in my shoulder before deciding it would be best to leave the arrow in my shoulder so that I wouldn’t bleed out on my way back, no matter how uncomfortable it was. I also made sure to check my inventory and was happy to find the diamonds I had mined safe in my care. I had only found about 40 but there was no way I was spending more time down here to look for more.

After taking the time I needed to calm myself, I slowly stood up and began my long walk back to the stairs. The journey took me about an hour and a half. I had to take it really slow due to my injuries. But I made it to the stairs nonetheless. I almost cried staring up at them though. It took me another half an hour to climb the stairs that normally would have taken no longer than 10 minutes to climb.

By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I was exhausted. I couldn’t walk anymore, but I had to. The house was about 50 blocks away. For some reason we decided to keep the mine and the house separate and now I cursed that decision. I stared at the warm house and almost sobbed at the sight. “TECHNO!” I screamed as loud as I could. The pink headed man was on the front porch doing something. At the sound of my scream the man immediately dropped what he was doing and booked it toward the mine. “Y/N!” He yelled in return.

My legs quivered as he drew closer and when he was right in front of me, they gave out completely. Techno caught me and pulled me as close as he could to his chest, keeping in mind the arrow that was poking from my shoulder. “What happened?!” He questioned in a panic, his eyes scanning over my body. “Mobs.” I whimpered, clutching his shoulders tightly. “I told you to be careful, damnit” He hissed, scooping my legs into his arms and carrying me bridal style to the house. “I was,” I whimpered. My body must have sensed that I was now in a safe place because my vision went black and I completely collapsed into Techno’s arms.

*Small Time Skip*

My shoulder’s cold. That was the first thing I could think of when I came too. What’s on my shoulder? I let out a groan as my eyes fluttered open. I wasn’t in the mine or outside in the snow. I was in Techno and my shared bedroom. I slowly turned my head to look at my shoulder. The arrow had been removed and it was now wrapped in gauze and an ice pack sat on top of it. My throat was dry and my body ached, less than it did, but I was still sore. “Techno?” I croaked, hoping he could hear me.

I didn’t have to wait long. The door swung open within seconds and there stood my pink headed boyfriend. “Y/N” He breathed, rushing toward the side of my bed. He leaned down and pressed a sweet and careful kiss to my lips before kneeling down beside me, clutching my hand tightly. “You scared the hell out of me,” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. “I’m sorry,” I whispered back. Techno let out a small sigh before kissing my hand again. “Don’t be sorry love. It’s not your fault. I should have gone with you or sent you with better protection.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes lovingly, “It’s not your fault” I playfully mocked, bringing his hand to my mouth and kissing it. Techno chuckled deeply at my statement.

“How are you feeling?” He questioned, standing up slightly, his eyes glancing over my injuries. “Okay” I told him, “I’m a bit sore, but okay. I could use a glass of water,” I hinted. Techno chuckled and nodded, “On it,” He quickly left the room and returned with a glass of water. My boyfriend held the glass to my lips and helped me drink. Once I was done, he set the glass down on the nightstand. “Anything else?” he asked. I slowly extended my arms and made grabby hands. Techno laughed and got the hint, crawling in bed beside me. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around me, making sure that what he was doing wasn’t causing me any pain. Once he was sure I was okay, he pulled me close to his chest, pressing kisses on my head. I giggled at the feeling and allowed myself to relax in his arms.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” I whispered. Techno hummed, “Anytime love. I’ll always be there for you. Just try not to scare me like that again. When you fell… I just felt my heart stop. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” I nodded slowly into his chest, “I’m glad you were there to catch me when I fell. My legs just gave out. It took me so long to get back up from the mine and I was so tired…” “I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall. Just don’t make a habit of it.” The two of us shared a laugh about that. “I promise,” I murmured, letting out a yawn. “You’re tired, you should sleep more. I’ll still be here when you wake.” Techno murmured in my ear. I let out a tired hum and nodded. “Okay… I love you” “I love you too… so much”

There you have it! I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, be sure to leave a like!!

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

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The Dark Team (part 8)

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Join the taglist in here (Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman)

Warnings: violence, near death experience, suicidal consideration.

With all the information you needed in your head, you ran up to the hotel room. Loki and Bucky were wandering around the neighborhood, handling the “incognito” part of the mission very poorly. But you’d be soon back with them, you just needed to grab the suits, some more information and a scribbled map, and you’d be back on the streets, fighting criminals or… whatever the Hell those two were doing.

It was just a matter of time until you finally got the stick. What did it have that Tony Stark feared so much to be in the wrong hands, you would never know. Unless you grabbed the stick before giving it to him and found out yourself, of course (but no, that would be irresponsible, an invasion, all levels of illegal and probably would result in getting you in jail, or maybe even assassinated).

It sounded good, though.

After what felt like a thousand stairs later, you finally arrived at your room. Grabbing the doorknob while inserting the key, you realized it was already open. You stopped. Was anyone in there? You weren’t the last one to come out that morning, so you weren’t sure you closed it well. Bucky was; and he was generally distracted on those details. He would sleep on them because he can take anyone, he’s a supersoldier, after all.

You didn’t let go of the doorknob, and opened very carefully as to not make any noise. Damn, if I just had my gun with myself this would be much easier, you thought for the hundredth time on the mission. You made a mental note on not leaving the room without a gun ever again.

If it wasn’t bad enough, you didn’t bring any communicators with your teammates on. What for? The last part of the mission was done with all of you together. It made sense you’d sleep on it too.

You stopped the self-loathing on your last few decisions and thought about who or what could be on the other side of the door. It couldn’t be someone who wanted the information you’d already collected, because you informed absolutely no one about it. Not even Stark. And you had made sure nobody followed you or heard your steps. So, it had to be someone from the Hydra base. Someone who would think you had the stick with yourself, and wanted it back.

Basing your actions on that speculation, you calculated the time and risks to get to your gun and suit before you’d get attacked, if the agent was still in there. You could only assume it was an agent. What else would Hydra have, in the middle of 2021?

Alright, you thought. Maybe it’s empty already. I only get one chance.

You slammed open the door and ran to your suit and gun as fast as you could, suiting up with a button, and, in a matter of seconds, you were against a wall with your Beretta 92 pointing at whoever could come and attack you.

Silence and adrenaline filled the room. You looked around, and nothing moved. Not a single sound. Not even a fly.

“Whoever’s here, I don’t have it. I swear, I don’t have it”, you said, still with your gun up. “And I don’t know who has it, yet”.

No answer. You looked around a little, opening some doors and looking under the beds, but it really seemed like you were alone now. Someone had definitely been there; your papers were all disorganized and some chairs were on the floor. The window had a gunshot. But whoever went there, saw there was nothing they wanted and left, not long ago. Maybe you could even seek them with the street cameras.

You walked to the window and traced the gunshot with your fingertips. You recognized the bullet; Bucky had used them before, as the Winter Soldier. Looking outside you recognized in the distance, about three blocks away, the unmistakable figures of your teammates.

A cocking gun in your nape brought you back to the room. You didn’t turn around just yet, waiting for some talking (they usually talk, they don’t want you dead; they rather want your information. Quite difficult to take from if you won’t be able to answer). After some more silence, you turned around violently and tried to kick the (huge, even bigger than Thor) man’s gun off. Instead, he grabbed your leg and pushed you to the floor.

Maybe you weren’t exactly awesome when it came to hand-in-hand combat, alright?

Pointing your gun at him from the floor, you tried to get up, and as soon as you felt him get closer to grab your gun, you shot. You made sure to not actually shoot him; just close enough for him to think you were going to shoot him if he got close. He didn’t get fazed at the shot; didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. Instead, grabbed your gun and bent it as if it were melted plastic.

Holy fucking shit.

Good news were, now you knew what exactly was in that stick. Bad news, it was already in the wrong hands.

“Chemistry works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it, fella?”, you asked the supersoldier standing in front of you. “When did they serum-ed you? You might be experiencing some side effects”, you chatted, waiting for your teammates, hoping they’d walk a little bit faster. Hopefully, they’d heard the shooting and realized you were in trouble. They didn’t know exactly how much trouble you were in, though.

“You do realize the more you talk, the faster I’ll have to kill you, right?” said he, finally.

“What’s your name? Can’t see you with your weird mask on” you said, standing up slowly. “Let me guess… you must be familiar with James, right?”.

The supersoldier blinked in confusion, and charged his gun, pointing it directly at your forehead.

“You have exactly ten seconds to tell me how you know about James. Ten”.

“Must be a very difficult experience”.

“Nine”.

“To be so close, yet so far away”.

“Eight”.

“You know, it’d do you wonders some therapy maybe. To process the whole James thing”.

“Seven”.

“You sound like Monica Geller”.

“Six”.

“You’ll get bored of counting, eventually”.

“Five”.

“Alright, pack it up”.

“Four”.

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Three”.

“I don’t know anything about that James, it was a wild guess. Everyone is called James these days”, you explained. He stopped counting but pressed the gun harder against your head.

“Quit the mocking. Give me the stick and I’ll let you live”.

“There’s no way you’re letting me live. I already know Hydra has some more supersoldiers, and I guess the thing in the stick is the formula, isn’t it? Give me the secret formula, spongebob, right?”. The man realized you were just making time, and tried to grab your wrists. “Took you long enough to notice. Soldiers are not the brightest, let me tell you”.

As he tried to lock your wrists, you used all your body weight to push him out of the window. Terrible idea. He was at least five times stronger, and instead of your original plan, the one getting thrown off a nine-floor window now were you.

Bucky and Loki were a block away, and all they saw was a tiny speck on the sky, getting rapidly closer to the street. It didn’t take them much thinking until they realized that speck was you, flying off the hotel room. Loki took impulse and teleported himself as fast as he could to the nearest floor you were currently passing, and grasped your arm and hand with his both hands, holding himself with only his legs from a balcony.

Hanging from just one arm, with seven tall floors behind your feet, you tried your best to not look down. Oh, heights weren’t your best friend, much less the possibility of a bad movement and instantly dying right there. You could only think in how lucky you were your teammate had quick reflexes, and how idiotic you were to think you could’ve possibly taken that man by your own. He bent your gun with his bare hands, for God’s sake. You looked down, and saw the supersoldier already fighting with Bucky on the streets. Your face turned even paler as you observed how tall you were. Everything was tiny below you.

“Look at me”, said Loki, with a calm voice. You redirected your gaze to him. His eyes. There was a glimpse in his eyes, showing something. Your own emotions weren’t allowing you to actually concentrate on his face expressions, anyways. He sensed it, and repeated. “Look at me, don’t look down. I’m here”.

You met his eyes once again and this time you didn’t leave them. There it was. His eyes irradiated pure and raw panic. Fear. No, not even fear; terror. What was he terrified of? Terror of losing you? Why would he care so much? Why would he care that deeply? It didn’t matter now, for you were definitely dying. His grip was strong, but your hand was starting to numb and you were losing strength. You were dizzy and sweating, frightened. He gripped harder and it pained you.

“Hold on to me. Do not let go, I'm here”, he said. His words were tranquil and reassuring, trying to keep it as undisturbed as he could, but a drop of desperation cracked his voice. “Hold strong, I’m lifting you up”.

“Don’t. You’ll fall down. You can’t take this height either” you said without hiding your dread. Your tight throat did the job and your eyes watered. That was it, you thought. And it was. There was no way Loki could lift you without him falling down too. And even if there was a possibility, why would he risk his long and meaningful life for the sake of yours? “Let me go, Loki”.

“I’m not letting you go”.

“You’ll die”.

“No, and you won’t either. Hold onto my grip”, he assured you without leaving any room for discussion, trying to lift your body and almost tripping in the process. He gasped and you left out a whine.

“Loki”.

“Stop it, I’m not letting you go”, he said, less calm than he’d have liked to. “I’m not letting you go”, he repeated, almost in a whisper.

In a struggle, he brought you into the balcony he was hanging from. Your legs were shaking, as you laid on the marble floor by his side. Both of you breathless, looked at each other without saying a word. After a brief moment, you took his hand and squeezed it gently, not ever breaking eye contact.

“You saved me. Thank you”.

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heliads · 3 years

Text

A Pretty Thief

After Race stumbles upon what has to be the most charming pickpocket in the entire city of New York, he’s sure he has to get to know her. It’s a good thing he’ll soon get his chance.

masterlist

Race is almost sure he didn’t see it at all.

Had he moved a foot to the left, had he blinked, he probably wouldn’t have seen anything. It was quick, hands moving with the grace of a trained pianist. Not that Race would know- he’s not exactly known for hanging around establishments with a caliber high enough to warrant a pianist. No, the Sheepshead Races are his kind of entertainment, not the top level businessmen who choose to frequent the orchestra and concert halls.

It is precisely this kind of man that Race has just seen pick-pocketed. The theft was probably the smoothest he’s ever seen- a quick slide of the hand across a back pocket and it was like watching the man’s wallet leap into the awaiting palm of the thief. The thief, as it happens, not the usual scruffy boy but a girl. That’s probably why she caught Race’s attention even before she liberated the man’s wallet- she’s pretty. Far prettier than the usual thieves Race has seen on the streets.

She glanced up once at him, as if she could sense his thoughts on her. She looked startled for a second, as if not used to being caught in the middle of a theft, then quickly regained her momentum. She flashed Race a cocky grin, tossing a wink like a penny to an awaiting newsie. Then she disappeared back into the crowd, gone in an instant despite the fact that there actually aren’t that many people on the street. Race is fascinated.

This, however, proves to be a mistake. In the time it takes for Race to linger in place, watching the pretty thief go, the man has discovered that his wallet is missing. He looks around frantically, searching for a possible suspect, and his eyes land on Race. Race watches as the man points a finger at him, the words shouting from his lips: “Thief! Stop him!”

Race pauses a moment. Surely he doesn’t mean Race himself, who’s just been standing here selling papes? But it does make sense, as few things on the streets ever make sense to bankers and street rats alike- who would steal a wallet, the couple of well-dressed shoppers or the boy dressed in worn clothes and hand-me-downs, selling papes at a couple of cents each in the hopes of not starving to death?

It’s practically obvious that the man would turn to him. It’s also obvious what Race has to do now- it’s what he’s been doing for almost all of his life. He turns and runs, sprinting down the narrow cobblestoned streets in an attempt to get away from the banker and the crowds now turning to face him. A couple of cops attempt to chase him, but Race has always been able to outrun them. No competition.

His feet feel lighter than air, his legs a blur as he darts between couples walking on the streets and around corners. He pauses for a second, noticing the cops now in front and behind him, then makes a split-second decision and ducks into a nearby alleyway. He follows the brick walls through a few twists and turns, then curses softly. He’s hit a dead end, and there’s no way he can go back. The cops have already blocked the exit.

Just when Race is trying to figure out what his next move could be, a voice sounds from above him. Race cranes his head, trying to spot the speaker, and then he sees the arm pointing to a twisting metal ladder mostly hidden by crumbling brick. Race nods his gratitude, rushing up the ladder before the cops can spot him. He’s just managed to throw himself onto the roof of a low building before the men spill into the alleyway, but even from here Race can see their frustration. There’s no way they can find him, not now.

Race watches until they turn around and head back to the street, then lets out a quiet sigh of relief. He turns to thank his mysterious aide, but freezes slightly with surprise when he recognizes her. It’s the girl from before, the girl who stole the banker’s wallet and got him landed in this mess in the first place. Race scratches the back of his head, adjusting his newsie cap. “Thanks for the tip. I wouldn’t have found that ladder if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

The girl flashes him that same dazzling grin. “No problem. I felt kind of bad that they started chasing you. I wasn’t trying to pin the theft on you.” Race returns her smirk. “And they says there’s no honor among thieves.” The girl laughs, glancing over the edge of the roof to make sure nobody can see them. “You’re the first person to see me steal something in a while. Usually I’m too fast.”

Race raises an eyebrow. “You’se that confident in yourself?” The girl shrugs. “You tell me.” She pulls a cigar from her pocket, starting to lift it to her lips. Race’s eyes widen when he realizes it’s his. It had been in his shirt pocket, but now- His hand flies to his breast pocket. Sure enough, it’s empty. Race gapes at her. “That’s my cigar!”

The girl hands it back after a second. “Just proving a point.” Race pretends to glare at her. “Better be. Cigars are off limits.” The girl folds her arms across her chest, expectant. “Then how did you get them? I didn’t know newsies had such wide access to the best cigars.” Race leans against a nearby wall, a grin rising to his lips despite himself. “I guess we all have our secrets.”

Then he straightens up. “Where are my manners? Honestly, you meet a goil who steals your cigars and you forget everything. I’m Race.” He extends his hand, mocking formality like he’s one of the bankers this girl just stole from, and the pretty thief copies his stance. “Y/N. Nice to meet you, Race.” Race flashes her a wink. “Nice to meet you too, as long as you stop stealing my cigars.” “No promises.”

They part ways soon after that. Whoever this Y/N is, she’s not a newsie, and Race needs to finish selling the rest of the day’s papes if he wants to have enough to eat tonight. Still, he can’t pretend he wasn’t disappointed to leave her on that roof. There was something about her that he hadn’t seen in a while. She was like a breath of fresh air in the middle of this smoke-clogged city. Honestly, that should tell Race that this girl is special. She’s practically driving him to poetry.

He doesn’t expect to see her again. Something about Y/N tells Race that she’ll only be found if she wants to be found. Yet a couple of days later, Race is walking back to the newsie Lodging House when he sees a familiar silhouette. It’s late in the day, the sun already slipping back into dusk, but he could recognize her in the middle of a dark and stormy night if need be. She’s walking quietly, arms wrapped around herself as if hoping that the press of her forearms alone could keep her warm. Race has lived in Manhattan long enough to know that it never will.

Race jogs to catch up to her, shouting a greeting from down the block. Y/N turns around, a somber expression instantly glittering into a smile when she sees him. Race slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close like he’s known her his entire life. “You want to tell me why the best goil in ‘Hattan is walking around like she’s been living a funeral?”

Y/N glances at him over her shoulder. “You think I’se the best goil in ‘Hattan?” Race shrugs. “Maybe all of New York. Maybe the entire world. But that’s not the point. What’s got you feeling blue?” Y/N’s smile slips from her face. It’s strange how she looks without it- older, maybe. More used to the stresses of being a teenager who has to work day in and day out to survive the city.

“I usually have a job in one of the factories, stitching clothes and whatnot. I’se had it for a while. It’s not the easiest or the safest, but at least it’s indoors.” Race winces at that. He’s heard a lot about the factories, about dozens of girls crammed together in small rooms, eyes strained over tiny stitches for hours and hours until they practically couldn’t see or move their hands at all. For some reason, the thought of the flighty, high-spirited Y/N stuck inside that dim and darkened room makes his heart clench in his chest.

Y/N is continuing now, and Race puts aside his pride to listen to her. “Or at least, I had the job for a while. Today, the bosses came out and said that they was going to fire a bunch of us to make sure they had enough profits. I was one of the people they selected at random, because I’se one of the youngest and they don’t trust us kids to do the best work. They’ve done stuff like this before, but they always hire us back. It’s been a couple of days now, and I’ve showed up every day. They should have hired me back, but they haven’t. I think they’re serious about this.”

She flops her head into her hands. “I’m worried, Race. The factories are already stuffed to the gills with new workers as it is. I don’t know that I’ll be able to find a place to work so quickly. Besides, my landlord’s going to kick me out if I don’t have a way to pay my rent. It’s the smallest apartment on this side of Manhattan, but it’s all I’ve got.” Race feels his spirits sink as he listens to Y/N talk. It isn’t fair that she should have to go through this, that any of them should have to work this hard just to live. But New York has always run at double speed, and the city that never sleeps has rarely cared about the welfare of the kids it relies on to function.

Race pulls Y/N closer, pressing a kiss against the top of her head despite his head screaming at him that this is not something he should be doing with a girl he’s just met. “You can stay with me. Us newsies have our lodging house, you know. It’s not much, just a bunch of troublemakers stuck together in a mess of bunks, but it’s home. If you need a place to stay, it’s here for you.”

Y/N looks up at him through a mess of lashes, and Race feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. “You mean it?” Race tries to force indifference, but he doesn’t think he could do it if he tried. “Of course I mean it. We look out for each other, right? Now I’m looking out for you.” Y/N beams at him, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re the best, Racer. Honestly.” Race feels like a giddy schoolboy. “Hey, it’s no problem. Want to go now?” “Absolutely.”

They make their way back to the lodging house, trading jokes and smiles as they go. Now that Y/N’s got a place to stay and at least start to stay on her feet, she’s decidedly happier. This in turn makes Race happier. He’s not sure why, but every time she looks over at him with that beaming smile Race feels like he could run a hundred miles and never stop, or jump right up to the moon and make her a place to stay. The other newsies would laugh at him and call him starstruck, but it doesn’t matter. Y/N’s curling her fingers around his, and he can’t think about anything else.

They pause in the doorway of the lodging house. Y/N looks back to Race as if double checking that he’s serious about this, and he gives her a reassuring smile. Race steps forward, opening the door and guiding Y/N into the main room of the house. From the second they enter, Race can feel all eyes shift to them. Great. It’s not often that the newsies bring a goil into the lodging house, and certainly not one as pretty as Y/N. Race can already hear the questions they’re dying to ask, and sense the stares from Albert, Elmer, and the others.

Luckily, Jack is the first one to step forward. Honestly, of all the newsies to first talk to Y/N, Race is glad it’s Jack. Jack happens to already have a girl to hang about with, and such a vibrant, fearless girl is Katherine that Race knows Jack would never think twice about another girl. It’s kind of like how Race feels about Y/N.

Jack looks between the two of them, a grin settling decidedly onto his face. “So, Racer, you want to tell us about your, uh, friend?” Race gives Jack a look. “This is Y/N, she’s a good friend of mine. She needed a place to stay so I offered up a bunk over here.” Jack grins. “I bet she’s a very good friend.” Race makes to hit him with his cap, and Jack dances away. “Alright, alright. Just teasing. Y/N, we’d love to have you. If you can stand Racer, you can stand any of us. Stay as long as you like.”

Y/N laughs, the sound echoing around the room like a bell. “That sounds great. Thank you.” Race repeats the thank-you before practically pulling Y/N away, desperate to get a chance to talk before the other newsies try their hand at stealing away his goil. Race wants to shake himself at the thought. Y/N isn’t his girl, remember? He would do well to keep it in mind, although the thought keeps slipping from his head the second she looks back at him.

At first, Race doesn’t know what he was thinking, bringing Y/N to the lodging house. Would she get annoyed by all the other newsboys? Would she like it at all? Luckily, he doesn’t have to worry. She seems so happy to have a place to stay, somewhere with a ton of new friends that she doesn’t complain at all. In fact, she seems to be enjoying herself.

When it’s time to go to sleep, Race isn’t sure what to do. They offer Y/N one of the spare bunks, and she takes it, but he can tell that Y/N is still awake even long after the other boys fall asleep. Quietly, so as to not wake anyone else, he whispers over to her. “You can come over here. If you want. You know, if you can’t sleep.” For a second, he thinks Y/N is going to laugh at him, but then she whispers a quick thank-you, hurrying across the room on footsteps almost too light to hear.

Y/N settles into the bunk next to him, wrapping the few threadbare blankets around her. Y/N lays her head down on his chest, and Race pulls her close to him. He can already feel himself starting to drift off to sleep, but he can still hear her whisper something in the quiet of the night. “Thank you, Race. For everything. You didn’t have to do all of this, you know.” Race smiles, the expression slow in the night air. “Of course I did. I care about you, you know. Couldn’t leave you there on the street.”

The words hang in the air for a second, and then Y/N’s voice comes again, sweetened with a smile. “I care about you too, Race. More than I should.” Race raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?” Y/N grins. “Yes. But now I’m going to sleep.” She pulls the blanket higher, closing her eyes despite the look on Race’s face. He considers this for a moment, what it means, what he can’t believe she just said. Then sleep threatens to drown him whole once more, so he presses one last kiss to her cheek before finally letting himself drift off to sleep at last. If the other newsies can see the two of them, holding each other close together in the quiet of the lodging house, they don’t say a word until morning.

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Soulmarks, Part 2

First part

~~~

She sighed and rested her hands on her hips, her fingers carefully detaching her yoyo.

They were giving her orders, she could tell from their tone, but she couldn’t understand a word he was saying. She barely spoke English outside of a few vague lessons she’d had when she was a kid, and they were talking too fast for her to catch a single word.

“You know, I’d love to do that, but I don’t speak English.”

The person paused at this, and then they switched to fluent French: “Oh, sorry. Turn around slowly and don’t make any sudden moves.”

She slowly turned around, resting her hands behind her back. His gun lowered slightly to point at her legs and she let herself relax a little bit. A shot would be absolutely terrible, but at least he wasn’t actively trying to kill her.

She flashed Nightwing a bright smile. “Why, hello, sir!”

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I’m Ladybug...” They didn’t know who she was, so she didn’t have to hide her yoyo. She pulled it out from behind her back and started doing tricks with it to let out some of her nervous energy. “And, well, I’m here because I think my soulmate is in trouble. Apparently you, Batman, and Batgirl all know them.”

Nightwing’s eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs. “Uh… can you prove that?”

“See, the problem with that is most of my soulmarks have disappeared for them. All of them, actually.”

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I’ll explain it to you…”

“Oh! No, they’re not dead! I thought they were, but then a new soulmark appeared and it’s… weird? Weirder than their normal ones, at least...”

She trailed off. Her eyes narrowed slightly. He’d certainly phrased the ‘I’ll explain it to you’ thing oddly, it was almost as if there was someone else there that she didn’t know about.

Her eyes searched the area for a sign of movement as she continued: “I don’t know if you can make sense of it. It’s a gun, but it’s one of those fake ones with the little flags that say ‘BANG’ you see in cartoons…”

Her eyes spotted a flickering in the shadows and she cringed mentally. Damn, she hated it when she was right. Whoever they were, she couldn’t see a glint of metal. So it was probably safe to assume they didn’t have a weapon out --.

“Where was it?”

She pulled her attention back to Nightwing. “Over my heart. Do you know what it means?”

He obviously knew, but he seemed hesitant to say anything. This really didn’t help her anxiety about the situation. He’d been prepared to tell her that her soulmate was dead, so just how bad could this be?

He opened his mouth to tell her, but he was cut off as a gun went off a few blocks away.

Listen, she wasn’t proud of it. But she was anxious... and it was at least two-on-one... and he’d had a gun pointed at her. She latched her yoyo around his wrist.

His eyes found their way to the polka-dotted yoyo and shock flickered across his face. “You’re-- oh sh --!”

She threw him to the next building without thinking and brought her hands up to her mouth as he crashed into a wall. Oops. He was a human.

She wheeled around to find Batgirl and held up her hands with a weak smile. What was the English word? “Sor-ree,” she said. She pointed the woman in the direction of the gunshot. “Can you? I’ll fix ‘im.”

Batgirl was apparently stunned enough by what Marinette had said that she complied.

She quickly hopped over to where Nightwing was and cringed as she summoned her lucky charm. The first thing she thought of popped into her hand: a computer mouse. “Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry,” she mumbled.

He could only groan in response.

“Miraculous Ladybug,” she said.

He was enveloped in ladybugs and, when they cleared, he was patting himself with a shocked expression. “What the-- how did-- why--?”

“I really didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear. Are you alright?”

“I’m… fine, apparently,” he assured her. He slowly pushed himself to his feet and gave her a weak smile. “Well… that was certainly one way to meet the inlaws.”

“HUH?”

She let them escort her, blindfolded, to the batcave.

Did she think it was stupid and unnecessary? Yes, she was already lost enough without the whole blindfold thing. Did she care? No, if this is what it would take to figure out if her soulmate was okay she would do it.

The blindfold was whipped off her face and a gasp left her lips.

“Oh, I need to get me one of these.”

Nightwing laughed and Marinette felt her face warm. She’d meant to be quieter.

She was allowed to wander around while Nightwing explained the situation to Batman and Batgirl. She tried not to laugh at all the names on plaques starting with ‘Bat’. She wondered if Nightwing was actually called BatNightwing.

“Ladybug!” Called possibly-BatNightwing.

She smiled awkwardly as she walked over. She perched herself on a railing.

Batman handed her a tiny device and she raised her eyebrows.

“It’ll translate everything so we can all speak in our native languages,” he explained calmly.

She nodded and placed it in her ear and pressed on. Lights flickered in front of her eyes and she stared at the interface in front of her with a stunned expression.

She reached up and selected her language and then waved for them to go ahead.

“Your soulmate is Tim Drake. He went missing on patrols about three weeks ago,” explained Batman.

Her eyes widened at the text in front of her and she pulled out her yoyo again. Her soulmate was a vigilante? You’d think she know about it from her soulmarks...

“What was his hero name?”

Nightwing shook his head. “Vigilante, not hero. And Robin.”

She hit herself in the face with her yoyo. Ah, so he wasn’t an avid birdwatcher, he was a bird-themed vigilante. She supposed that did make sense, considering her chosen career path.

Batgirl crossed her arms over her chest. “And you swear it’s a gag gun?”

“Do I have a reason to lie?”

Batgirl shrugged a little bit.

Batman seemed to think for a minute before sighing. “She’s a child, we can’t tell her this.”

“A child who launched that guy --” she jabbed a finger towards Nightwing “-- across some rooftops.” She smiled brightly. “So, how about we start talking, please?”

Batman sighed again. “No need for threats. We think he’s been captured by Joker.”

“And Joker is…?”

“A Rogue -- or I guess you would know of him as a criminal or villain. He’s pretty big here,” explained Batgirl.

She nodded slowly. That explained the deck of cards that had been on her back since she was a child. She started messing with her yoyo again.

“So, he was captured by Joker and…?”

Everyone looked at the oldest to explain, and Batman shook his head slightly. “He’s seemed to have lost his identity, if everything has disappeared.”

She thought about this for a minute and her face paled. What could Joker have done to him for him to lose his identity? She found herself hoping he’d just gotten hit too hard on the head once and lost his memory. That was the best case scenario.

Somehow, she doubted it.

“Right, so how do we save him?”

The Batmobile was… cramped.

The thing was huge, but there was very little actual room to sit for anyone besides Batman. Nightwing joked that it was almost as if he didn’t want anyone else in there.

In the end, Marinette got to sit in the passenger’s seat while Nightwing and Batgirl cursed their father out from the roof of the car. Sure, they were going slower than usual so no one would fall off and die, but it couldn’t be fun. She messed with her summoned yoyo (yes, she summoned a yoyo with her yoyo, what of it?) as she listened in to make sure they didn’t fall.

All too soon and yet far too late, they stopped at the gates to Arkham Asylum. She and Batman climbed out and helped the others down.

They all hopped the fence and Marinette sent a cheeky grin as she slipped through the bars.

Nightwing sighed. “I wish I was that tiny again.”

She gave a quiet laugh.

Everyone’s slight smiles dropped off their faces as they entered the asylum.

A shiver ran through her at the singing that floated through the mostly abandoned building. Everyone exchanged glances and then Nightwing and Batgirl split off.

She and Batman made their way through the halls, following the sound. She fought the temptation to curl in on herself or run away.

Batman sent her a look, a ‘stay back’, and then burst through the door.

Marinette slowly inched around the door as well, looking for cover. The place looked like Picasso had tried to make a house. There were walls where there shouldn’t be and an extra floor that just jutted out from the wall. Typical household items were placed around at random. It felt warped and… wrong.

The woman cut herself off and set a vase of flowers on the table. She turned around and looked up at the chair. “Puddin’, company!”

Marinette took the chance to dive under the table.

Her eyes landed on a… was that a bazooka? She’d never seen one in person before, and being so close to it made her anxious. She scooted as far away from it as she could. Her fingers pulled up the tablecloth slightly and she ducked down to see what was going on.

The man in the chair turned around to look and then smiled. “Hello there,” he said, stepping down. “Welcome to our happy abode!”

Joker and the woman embraced each other.

Batman didn’t humor them. “Where’s Robin?”

The couple looked at each other with mock confusion. “Robin? There’s no Robin here!”

“Maybe he means our little J!”

“Of course!” Joker snapped his fingers. “That’s it!”

They both looked at a blue curtain and Batman scowled as he strode towards it.

The woman giggled and reached under the table, her hand poking Marinette’s face. She made a quiet sound in the back of her throat and continued on, grabbing the bazooka. “Uh-uh! No peeking!”

Marinette’s eyes widened in horror as she pointed it at Batman but, before she could react, she pulled the trigger.

Ribbon wrapped around him.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Mommy’s little helper!” Said the woman brightly.

Joker pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You know, bats, we’ve been doing this little runaround of ours for years. It’s been loads of laughs, but the sad fact is…” He stepped towards the curtain. “None of us are getting any younger.”

“That old clock’s a-tickin!”

“Quite right, poo. And Harley and I were thinking it was time to start a family. Add a Joker Jr. to our merry brood.”

“But rather than go through all the joy of childbirth, we decided to adopt.”

“We couldn’t do it legally, but then we remembered you always had a few spare kids hanging around!”

Harley beamed and suddenly grabbed one of Marinette’s pigtails. A curse slipped from her lips as she was pulled out from under the table. “Whoops! There’s another one!”

“A surplus, really!” Joker grinned more widely than ever. “So we borrowed one.”

He pulled back the curtain with a dramatic flourish to reveal… an operating table?

She looked at the person on the table and felt bile rise in her throat. Their skin was blotchy white and paper-like from bleach treatments. Their eyes were unblinking and nearly pupil-less. The smile on their face was so wide that it had to have been stretched somehow.

“He needed a little molding, of course. What kid doesn’t? But, in time, we came to love him as our own. Say hello, J.J.”

The person started to laugh. The kind of laugh someone makes when they’re trying their hardest not to cry. They hopped down and laughed harder, their arms clutching their stomach as a few stray tears slid down his face.

~~~

Next part

Every time I think I know how long a fic is going to be I’m wrong help --

Taglist

@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper

#soulmarks #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #tim drake #maribat #adribat

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misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Intro to Caitlyn 101 (Mirror’s Edge)

Summary: Caitlyn is a thief looking for the next big score. Used to taking wristwatches and wallets from rich folk, she's aiming to take down bigger game as she discovers the hidden magical world within her hometown. Her first mark is an unassuming shopkeeper and his collect of ancient relics. All set with a plan, Caitlyn makes her move. Though plans rarely go off without a hitch.

Hello everyone! E here, hoping you are all well and staying safe. So the next chapter of my little side project is here! Honestly wasn't planning on getting back to this so soon but I was having fun worldbuilding and character creating and here we are. You can blame my friend @hains-mae for enabling me.

Right so the next thing I write will probably be the part two to this then the next chapter of the Underground. Umm that's really it for me so have a great week, be safe, wear your mask, take care of yourself and your loved ones. Please feel free to reblog, share, leave kudos or leave comments with things you liked or feedback if you read it on a03. I promised I'd try to promote myself more and it feels weird haha.

E is out, have a great one everyone! and here’s the link to the doobly do

---> https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76014323

There was an arrogance that seemed deeply etched into every aspect of the magical world. She stood among valuable, ancient relics from throughout human history: Vases from Greece lined the shelf above her. A row of Roman gladius blades in various states of decay with only a flimsy glass case between them and Caitlyn’s pocket. Tarnished Victorian era slivered lockets left about like loose change.

Millions dollars worth of the past and she, a stranger, was left unattended with it all.

Technically she wasn’t supposed to be in here with the locked door and close sign but the fact in the 5 minutes it took her to pick the lock and scout the first floor without a single soul attempting to stop her really was a testimony to the haughtiness of the ‘shopkeeper’.

It had been only few months since she saw past the false reality that was superimposed onto hers and she was still readjusting: Magic was real. Elves, dwarves, little halfing folk? Real. People shooting bolts of lightning and flames while riding storm clouds? Real. The guy who kept awkwardly hitting on her every time she tried to get a hotdog from the cart at the corner? Just a regular creep BUT could’ve been magical.

Even their currency was a show of their excessive wealth: Sliver, gold, platinum coins Actual platinum traded away like it was nothing! People starving and helpless on the streets and these bastards just walked with some of the rarest metal on the planet in their pockets like chump change.

Anger bubbled within her stomach along with self righteousness and a bit of her breakfast but she took a deep calming breath, closing her bluish gray eyes. ‘Calm down Cait’ she scolded herself ‘This isn’t the first time you’ve seen excessive wealth squandered and wasted. You’re here for a job so do it and never come back.’

She glanced around the waiting room she found herself in. It was off to the side of the shopping front andthere were very few things of interest in the tiny room: Some old, tattered chairs that had seen better days. A very, very tacky abstract painting hung over a bricked up fireplace. There was a scattering of magazines older than her with loose stables and free roaming pages everywhere.

A place of show and very little use.

“Hello my angel.”

Caitlyn seized up. She had been so caught up in her rage she hadn’t been paying attention to anyone coming down the stairs. Three stories with a handful of people about and nary a sound could heard. Must be some sort of magic.

She shook herself out of her stupor, slowly exhaling to calm her nerves. She forced her lips to curve into the cutest, lost smile she could muster. She opened her purple jacket a bit further so the guy could get a clearer view of her tight white tank top and running shorts.

“Helpless. Remember you’re helpless.” She whispered to herself before whirling about, her long black hair with dyed purple coloring flowed behind her gracefully as if she was an actress in those stupid hair product commercials.

“Oh!” she spoke with mock surprise, scrunching her face cutely as possible “I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m lost and the door was open and sorry!”

She leaned forward, sheepishly scratching the back of her neck as she gave whoever it was a better view of her outfit.

Hook, line and sinker.

“No problem sweetie. No need to lie to me.”

Hook, line and sunk apparently.

She blinked, unsure if she heard what she thought she heard. She glanced up to find a strangely dressed man with the goofiest grin.

He was cute in a ‘I dress as an obscure, indie character for cosplay’kind of way: His messy, unkempt black hair sat under a black fedora. He wore a long black trench coat that had seen better days. At least he preferred more colors than black on black. His collared shirt was a nice baby blue with an equally nice light brown vest. Black dress pants because men’s fashion is incredibly boring and shiny loafers to completed the look. Whatever the look was.

She expected him to be taking a good look at her attire.

What she found was him staring at her.

His warm dark brown eyes were soft, gentle and he refused to break his gaze from her bluish grays even though there were more tempting sights on offer.

She was on the back foot. No wandering glances, no self pleasured smiles. Not even a creepy chuckle. Just a strangely dressed, inch shorter guy looking like he just found the love of his life in this moment.

“I…” she cleared her throat “Umm….did you hear me?”

He gave a quick nod “Yeah. You broke in and you were trying to cover your tracks.”

It wasn’t that he guessed correctly what was she up to that threw her off. It was how casually he said it. More discussing the weather than committing a felony.

She raised an eyebrow, not sure how to proceed from whatever this was. There were always some people who caught on about her intentions fairly quickly but no one had ever been so….indifferent about it.

“I don’t work here.” the man offered, slowly closing the distance between them but leaving the doorframe wide open “I really don’t care that you’re here to rob the place.”

This has to be a trap. This had to be. No one was ever this….laidback. Were the other goons on the side waiting to jump her when she bolted? Was she on camera and he was letting her go knowing full well he had all the evidence he needed to track her down?

Or maybe he really didn’t care. He seemed more interested in talking than stopping her and there was this strange presence about him. A calm she’d never felt before even when her parents were alive. It was odd and foreign to her but she felt safe. Protected.

She shook her head, slowly inching closer to the doorway. The man made no attempt stop her. He just stood there, smiling, hands in his pocket.

The rational part of her brain said to run. This whole thing was botched and it was better to cut her losses than find out first hand what magical creatures could do to her. The less rational side of her head told her to wait, to talk this guy. Lying was obviously pointless but she had a feeling he would answer any questions she’d had and she had plenty.

“So…” she rose a suspicious eyebrow “Not gonna stop me?”

He shook his head “I wish you’d stay but I understand if you don’t want to be found in Andor’s shop. He’s one of those new elves. Less honor more power.”

She blinked. He said elves right? Just threw it out there like it was an everyday matter of fact and not a deeply held secret of her hometown.

“Elves aren’t real.’ Caitlyn said matter of fact.

“We both know better than that.” The man gave a bright smile.

“What do you want?”

The words spilled out of her mouth despite her best attempts but this guy was throwing her off so badly she forgot how to function.

“Talk to you of course.”

The worst kind of people were the sincere ones. They were sappy and gooey. They just so happy it was sickening. They had to be up to something. They had to some scheme or scam or something they were waiting to drop on you. No one was that happy, that purely honest. They were the liars who were so good they convinced themselves they were good people. No one was good and everyone had a dark corner in their soul they hid from the world.

Caitlyn knew she had plenty in whatever was left of her ratty soul.

“And if we talk? Will you let me go?”

The man nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Caitlyn licked her lips anxiously “Promise?”

Promise? What was she 12? No one kept their promises. Not even her.

He placed his hand over his heart “Cross my heart.”

“Let’s talk,”

He jerked his head towards the door “Outside. Don’t want you to ruin your heist.”

-----

Today was not going how she was expecting. She was thought she was going to break into an elf ran front, scout the area and come back in the middle of the night. She hadn’t been expecting to have coffee and bread with a random stranger on the street.

Well she had coffee, mystery man opted for hot chocolate.

They stood in a strangely comfortable silence a block from Andor’s. The man offered to pay for whatever she wanted and she took him up on it. Couple of baked goods, a sandwich for lunch, some water and of course her cup of wake up juice. If he was mad at her for her splurging at his expense, he hid it well. He just took his coco and some fancy elvish bread. Looked good but Caitlyn wasn’t up for trying other beings food. She didn’t know how it would sit with her stomach.

The elf who ran the cart, a few months ago human to her, waved goodbye to the pair as he counted the human cash the man gave him.

The trench coat cosplay stood patiently, sipping his drink and waited for her to break the silence.

She refused to break the silence first. Not wanting to sound too eager. Eagerness was a weakness and this guy was already throwing her off her rhythm.

“I’m Finnrick by the way.”

She turned to him, unsure if he was messing with her or not.

He gave her the same goofy smile “Finnrick Drift, private investigator.”

“Ah huh.” She nodded slowly “So you’re a magical P.I.? Like elves cheating on their wives, dwarves dodging their taxes P.I.?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged his shoulders “Ironically elves like dodging on their taxes more than dwarves.”

“Right.”

“You’re new to the whole other side of Newton Haven huh?”

She glanced at her coffee “Lived here my whole life. Really makes me wonder if I lost my mind.”

“Don’t worry, we’re all mad here Alice.”

Why was she talking to him? Why was she being honest? This was weirder and getting weirder every passing second.

Finnrick changed subject “So, robbing Andor? Any particular loot you are after?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes “Trying to fish something out of me Finny?”

“Guilty as charged” He beamed with pure happiness “Don’t want you wasting your time on shiny trinkets he cares nothing about.”

Caitlyn remained silent. She wasn’t used to such transparency. Normally this would be the point where the guy would lie or pretend to not have heard or awkwardly switch the subject but Finnrick answered openly and honestly. So far.

“So” Caitlyn straightened up, pulling her jacket wide open “What do you think? Great outfit right?”

Finnrick turned to her with a grin, his cheeks turning a pinkish hue as his eyes locked onto hers “Your body is absolutely lovely but your eyes even more so.”

Caitlyn could feel the flush coming. She coughed loudly, focusing on her drink as she willed the embarrassment away.

Finnrick chuckled lightly but returned to his drink. The silence returned, still comfortable as before.

This is was bad whatever this was. She needed to regain some level of control and stop acting like a teenage girl on her first garbage fire of a date.

“So” she cleared her throat “Mister P.I. what would you recommend taking if not all those millions of dollars of historical items he leaves about?”

Finnrick crushed the foam cup effortlessly as he gestured to the third floor of the shop “His office has a pretty simple safe. He keeps loads of paperwork. His various contracts, accounts, treasure hoards”

Caitlyn scoffed in disbelief even though her eyes shone with excitement “Treasure hoards? Elves? I thought dragons were the hoarders. Weren’t elves supposed to be above all that lovely corruption?”

“No one is above corruption.’ Finnrick answered “Elves are just like everyone else.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms and leaned back with a cocky swagger “And why, pray tell, would I care about boring paperwork?”

“Because it really hurt him in the pride.”

Damn Finnrick was good. Not only she was eager to learn more, she could already feel the smug satisfaction of bringing a powerful prick down a peg fill her cause.

Finnrick seemed to notice this because he went on “Andor is a young elf. 100 years give or take.”

“A hundred years is young?”

“When you live a thousand years every other race is a child to you. Andor’s old man is a swell guy. He’s one of those good elves you see in Tolkien.”

“Tolkien?” Caitlyn furrowed her brow “He wrote the books that those Lord of the Rings films are based on right?”

“Yeah actually.”

“Oh and the Hob…”

“We don’t talk about that.” Finnrick quickly added “But see the problem is Andor’s old man doesn’t know his son has become the small time crime lord. Thinks he’s running an antique business selling off old junk that was gathering dust in the family’s attic.”

Something clicked into place for Caitlyn “Wait. Junk from the attic? You mean all those relics on the shop floor?! THAT’S OLD JUNK!?”

Finnrick gave a casual shrug “Elves are weird. Andor don’t know shit about selling, all his money comes from his illegal business practices. That’s how he keeps the shop afloat.”

“I see” Caitlyn spoke, her bluish grays sparkling with mischievous intent “If those records disappeared, his shop sinks and he has to run back home to daddy.”

“And out of the city” Finnrick finished with a smile “And those records are pretty valuable to loads of people. Easier to fence and less messy to explain than a long lost Greek vase showing up in someone’s private collection. You’d get good prices for those hoard locations alone. Better than trying to carry tons of stolen and lost treasure back to your house.”

Caitlyn eyed Finnrick carefully “And you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart? Trying to do your ‘civic’ duty to our fair city?”

“Among other things” Finnrick admitted “But mostly for the greater good.”

“Pfft, greater good? Yeah sure buddy. Like you know what’s the greater good.”

“Will you do it?”

Caitlyn paused, allowing all this information sink in. It was much better than she had planned and while she wasn’t sure of Finnrick’s angle, he seemed honest enough. Of course everyone seems honest enough the first time you meet them.

“Let’s say I do” she spoke, placing her hands on her hips to play the part “What’s in it for you?”

“A favor” He replied simply.

She rose a curious eyebrow “A favor? It’s not date with me, is it?”

“No, I plan to earn that one myself.” Finnrick answered cheerfully.

Caitlyn coughed “Fine, good. Not a date. Least you’re not a creep. But a favor is pretty vague.”

“It’ll be simple I promise.”

Caitlyn narrowed her gaze suspiciously “You promise?”

Finnrick put his hand over his heart again “Cross my heart.”

Caitlyn took a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

Caitlyn offered her hand towards the trench coat cosplayer “You got yourself a deal.”

He gently took her hand in his own and gave it a firm shake. She was surprised when, as he pulled back, she felt a strange metallic item left behind.

She looked at the crystal butterfly hair clip he placed in her hand: It was a beautiful with sliver hues and multi-colored shards of glass across its wings.

“What’s this?”

“A gift.”

Caitlyn felt uneasy with the ornament in her palm: It felt cold and distant like it was feeling her out and wasn’t liking what it found.

“It’s attuning to you.” Finnrick explained “It’s syncing up to your whole aura.”

“Aura?” Caitlyn shot him a glare of disbelief “This isn’t one of those new age hippie things is it?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s a magical item. Yours specifically. Everything alive has a deep and very convoluted to explain connection to this plane. The hairclip is trying to match yours so you and only you can use it.”

“It feels wrong.”

“Because it doesn’t know you yet. It will.”

Caitlyn felt unease about whatever this was. Part of her wanted to toss it as far as she could. The worst part was she felt the item probing at her, changing temperatures as if trying find a comfortable setting for both of them. Burning one moment and too cold the next. This was magic and it made her felt like she knew nothing.

But part of her felt it slowly and subtly trying to match her, focusing on her and on her place in the universe. It felt more natural each passing moment and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious what mister detective over here was letting her borrow.

Caitlyn blew a strand of hair out of her face “How long does this usually take?”

“An hour.” Finnrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone “Oh shoot I have a meeting to get to.”

He turned to leave and suddenly Caitlyn felt alone. Awkward just standing in the street without someone to talk to.

“Wait!” She reached for him but quickly pulled back when he faced her “….any advice?”

Finnrick scratched his chin for a moment “Red tiles. Avoid them or they’ll blast you off the roof.”

“G-gotcha.” Caitlyn didn’t want to know what blast off the roof was code for “A-and the hairclip? What’s it do?”

Finnrick gave a cheeky grin and Caitlyn could feel her face flush “I guess you’ll have to find out angel. Bye for now. May we meet again soon.”

And like that, he was off. Strolling down the straight with a bounce in his step and humming a tune.

Caitlyn glanced at the ornate hairclip in her hand.

Turns out there was a lot more to this magical world than she thought.

#Mirror's edge #Original Work #original story #my work

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jordanstrophe · 3 years

Text

Going Once, Going Twice, Part 5

Stranger Danger

CW: Pet Whump, Some Manhandling, Traumatized Whumpee, Wounds mentioned, Chipped whumpee with an incision, Panic attacks.

Masterlist

Peter sat nervously at the table. He kept shooting skeptical glances at Robert, then back down at his knees. Robert laid his hand on the table towards him. “Can I see your wrist?” He asked. Peter flinched, but obediently placed his hand in his.

His wrist was bandaged and sore from the shackles. “One second...” He muttered, off to fetch the first aid kit. He sat across from him and took his wrist back in his hands. “I’m going to take this off, okay?” He asked, as Peter nervously nodded. He slowly unwrapped it, he could see Peter getting visibly more nervous the more he took off. The pulled it off to reveal an inch incision along his wrist.

“Does it hurt?” He asked. “It’s.. It’s okay.” He muttered under his breath. He was so afraid to say the wrong thing. His old master got angry whenever he complained about pain, and usually resulted in getting more of it. “I’ll tell you one thing, if I got an inch metal chip shot into my wrist, I wouldn’t say it’s okay. Tough kid.” Robert huffed, taking out a fresh bandage.

“I’m going to have to put some pressure on it, okay?” He asked, as Peter nodded. He gripped his wrist, before tightly wrapping the bandage over the wound. The tightness shifted the wound painfully, Peter cringed and whimpered, trying to pull his wrist away.

“Shhshh.. Hold on, I know it hurts.” Robert hushed, trying to finish up quickly while keeping a firm grasp on his arm.

“WAIT!” Peter cried, panicking and trying to rip away. Robert stopped immediately, but didn’t let go. “I’m sorry, it's almost over, the worst of it is done.” He soothed. His heart was heavy, he felt terrible, but he needed this over with.

Peter gulped and whimpered as he tied the bandage off. “Feel okay?” He asked, letting him go as he held his wrist to his chest with a light nod.

Robert left him to calm down and nervously held a phone in his hands. He glanced back at Peter, who curiously inspected his new bandage.

‘’Hello?” A tired voice answered on the phone.

“Luke?” Robert asked.

“Robert?” The voice asked. “What are you doing calling me? I live two feet from you.” Lukar grumbled.

“Sorry about that, I have a small situation here, and I didn’t want to leave him. Can you watch someone for me for an hour or two?”

“You want me to-who-the-what now?" He asked blatantly. “I mean, Yeah I can. Wait, when did you get a kid? How old are they?” Luke asked.

“He’s... 21.″ Robert muttered.

“He’s... 21?” Luke asked. “Rob, that's a fully grown adult."

"We-well yes! But... He's a... Pet." He whispered under his breath, as if it were a crime. “Look, he's scared, and bored. He doesn't have anything, and I just thought it would be fun to get him something, I don't even know what I'm doing. Can you please watch him and... Don't let him burn down the house?" Robert asked.

Lukar broke into hysterical laughter.

“Honestly Rob... I thought better of you.” Lukar laughed. “Wait! Luke, come one, It’s not like that! He was in danger, I swear!" Robert cried. “Relax, I'm messing with you, no judgment. Two hours, right?"

''Right, I just want to grab him some things, he’s bored out of his mind and getting fussy.” Robert sighed. “Awwww! Rob that is the cutest thing you’ve done aside from the tiny wood carvings.” Lukar mocked. “I'll head over, see you soon."

“Thank you so much!” He exclaimed, before putting the phone down. “Peter? I’m going to run to the store for a bit, a friend is coming over to stay with you, okay?” He asked.

He went pale.

It was never good when a master had friends over... Master would want him to entertain the guests by behaving, looking pretty, and don’t scream too loudly when they beat him to the inch of his life. Even if it was one person, his obedience was always tested to its limits.

He collapsed to the ground on his knees, Robert jolted at his sudden thump.

“Please! T-take me with you! I’ll be good I swear! Please don’t leave me here...” He cried, tears already streaking down his face. Robert dropped to his knees in front of him and cupped his cheek, tilting his head up and thumbing away the tear.

“It’s going to be okay. I don’t want to take you because it’s going to be a crowded day. I don’t want to put any more stress on you. Luke is a good man, he’ll take care of you. I promise.” Robert soothed. That didn’t stop the tears, as Peter crawled into his lap and clung to him.

“P-please...” He tried one last time. Robert didn’t understand what had him so spooked, but he had to leave the house eventually. The sooner he got comfortable with Luke the better. There was a knock at the door, Peter fell deathly silent in his arms, Robert wondered if he was even breathing.

“It’s alright...” He whispered, unlatching him from his neck and wiping away the rest of his tears. Peter fell back on his knees as he got up and opened the door.

“Hey Rob!” Lukar greeted, his dark hair pulled back into a short ponytail, and bright green eyes. He could be a model if he wanted to, but IT suited him better.

Robert caught Peter trying to slink back into the bedroom, trying to hide under the bed, he walked over and closed the bedroom door before he could get in. Peter whimpered in response and shoved his body against the door and cowered. Robert sighed, before finding the coat he had left on the floor not far, and draped it over his shoulders.

“Come meet him please, it’s okay.” He said, talking his arm and gently pulling him off the floor. He clung to the coat for what looked like dear life, as he nervously was pushed over to Luke, who had his arms politely tucked behind him with a smile.

“Luke is going to be nice and stay here for an hour or two, isn’t that right?” Robert asked, standing behind Peter, so he couldn’t run away.

“That’s right! it’s nice to meet you.” He smiled, slowly reaching a hand out to him. Peter jumped and cried out in fear, twisting his body and trying to jump away, only to smack right into Robert. “Oh, no no It’s okay...” Robert held him in his arms.

What was he supposed to do? He was so scared of everything, and nothing he did helped. Was he just traumatizing him over and over again? Should he just cut him loose in the house and let him do what he wants for a week? All he could do was his best until Winola found a better suited owner, and that was anyone but him.

“Peter, I trust Luke with my life. I also trust him with you, I promise you he’s not going to hurt you. If anything he’s going to spoil you if you let him.” Robert chuckled.

Peter let out a shaky breath. He was being an embarrassment to his master, and he needed to toughen up and take it. As scary as he was, he’s been so patient and kind towards him. He shakily turned around to face Lukar, who thankfully had taken the rather obvious hint, and put his hand down back behind him.

“Are you alright?” Robert asked, he nodded his head in response. “Alright, Luke, behave.” Robert joked, as Lukar broke down laughing. “I’ll be on my best behavior, don’t worry!” He laughed. Was that sarcasm? That was sarcasm, right? Robert gave him one last pat in the hair, before slinging the keys around his finger, and heading out the door.

He stopped in the doorway and glanced back at Peter, who was left standing in the middle of the room alone, trembling, looking up at him with a pitiful expression. Robert gave him a comforting smile before turning to leave. Peter looked at the man he was left with.

Run

Don’t run, behave.

RUN

His instincts screamed in agony, as he stayed frozen in place. His heart jumped when Luke turned to look at him. “... Sooo... Do you want to... Watch a movie or something?” He awkwardly rocked on his feet.

No, I want to run and hide

“Mmm.. Mmaky..” He muttered. Anything the man said, he had to say yes to. He was nothing but a Pet after all, that’s his one job. Lukar turned the TV on and kept the volume low.

He glanced over at the man trembling on the couch who had slunk onto the very far side. How was he supposed to talk to a Pet? What do you say to one? What if he accidentally said something that would set him off? It was like walking on eggshells. Peter was bundled up with the coat defensively wrapped around him.

“If you want a snack or anything, just let me know, okay?” He asked. The man flinched, but was too nervous to respond. “I know where Rob’s hazelnut stash is.” Luke smirked. Peter couldn’t help but to let off a small smile.

Finally, he was breaking the tension, that is, until a very big dog began to bark right outside the house, Its voice booming. Peter yelped and toppled off the couch hitting the floor, bruising his knee in the process.

“Shoot! Are you alright?” Luke asked, jumping to his feet. Peter was unreachable, his heart was racing from the sudden noise and the pain in his knee. He was panicking, breathing heavy as he hid under the coat on the floor. “That’s my dog... I’m so sorry! I’ll be back in one minute!” He called, running out the door to collect his great pyrenees that was going ballistic. He must have not secured the dog run properly, and she found her way outside the house knowing full well where her owner was.

‘Come on girl! Get back in there!” He beckoned. Her tail wagged as she looked at him excitedly, but ceased the barking and booked it back to the house. He closed her back in as quickly as possible, before running back to the house.

“Peter?” He called, he wasn’t where he left him. He scoured the house desperately looking for him, but there was no sign.

Robert happily pushed a cart through the store, full of canvases, paints, puzzle, board games and a block of wood. He didn’t want him to handle any of the wood carving tools, but he wanted to make him something fun. Maybe a dog, or a horse carving. He hoped whoever took him would be nice enough to let him keep it if he liked it. His phone abruptly rang.

‘Rob! I.. Uh.. Don’t be mad! Okay, you can be mad...”

“Luke? What happened? Is Peter okay?” He asked.

“Well, Poppy got out of her pen and started barking, it scared him, so I ran out and got her back in and now I can’t find him!” He hollered.

“Luke It’s been thirty minutes!” Robert cried. “Okay... Did you check under the bed? That’s his go-to spot when he’s scared." He thought. “I... No, no I didn’t.” He muttered.

Lukar slowly opened the door to the bedroom and crouched down. Sure enough, there was the coat hiding a very scared man underneath. “Yeah, he’s here.” He took a breath of relief. “Let him be, I’m coming home.” He said, making a U-turn with his cart.

Lukar hung up the phone and let out a shaky sigh. Robert was probably never going to trust him again, and now all he could do was sit on the floor and watch the silent figure tremble. In hardly any time, Robert was already home and sprinted from his car to the house, but stopped at the door to quietly creep in. He scared even Lukar as he appeared in the doorway, glancing under the bed. “I’m sorry.” Lukar whispered. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” He whispered back. He nodded him out the door, as he took his place on the floor.

“Hey sweetheart.” He soothed. He twitched, but didn’t respond. “Everything is okay now, I know you got scared. I’m right here.” He reached under and touched his shoulder. He didn’t move, he didn’t even twitch. That wasn’t a good sign... Robert couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to make sure he was okay right now. He reached under and gently pulled him out.

He unwrapped the coat from around him, he was sweating, and his eyes half open, distant. He felt his forehead, he had a fever!? Robert slid his arm under his knees and lifted him, placing him on the bed. “Oh no no no no...” Robert muttered underneath his breath. Peter only laid silently on the bed with one hand barely clutching the coat, he looked exhausted, it seems all the stress finally hit him.

And it hit him hard.

Robert pulled the blankets up around him and tucked him in, brushing the hair out of his face. “It’s going to be alright...” He soothed, before pulling his phone out. It was answered almost immediately.

“Robert! I’ve been waiting for you to call! How’s my boy? Are you taking good care of him?” Winola asked.

“...”

“Err, about that. I could use your help.”

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @moose-teeth @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @yet-another-heathen @sillypizzazineoperator @freefallingup13 @alien-octopus @unicornscotty @whumpzone @penny-for-your-whump

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

#whump #pet whump #caretaker #caretaking #whump stories #whump writing #rescued whumpee #I thought I could write the fevers and dreams part next #but nope #Next one though

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anniesocsandgeneralstore · 3 years

Text

Normal Love and Superheroes: One - the orange streak of lightning

Summary: Leena Duckett gets her bike stolen and meets friendly officer John Blake.

Pairing: John Blake x OFC (Leena Duckett)

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: theft, general spookiness there for a second, i don’t know this is pretty pure

“Goodnight, Mr. Nooley.” Leena waved to the Gotham Community Center director as she stood in the threshold of the exit.

“Goodnight, Leena, and be safe on your way home.”

She smiled at the middle-aged, balding man one last time before finally exiting the building. It was late, as per usual when she left the community center after her days of volunteering. But Leena always thought that Gotham was far more beautiful at night. The skyscrapers towering miles above her, all of them aglow with the evidence of late-night workers or families safe inside their apartments. She tugged her baggy sweater tighter around her to ward off the chill that had taken over the air after the sun went down. Fall was nearly in full effect for Gotham. A time of year that Leena loved.

With pinked cheeks and nose from the sudden cold, Leena headed west. A block away from the community center to where her bike was safely locked to the nearest available bike rack when she arrived that afternoon. Her stomach grumbled. She could already picture herself in the tiny kitchen of her shared studio apartment. A pasta dish was due on a night like this. Something that paired nice with white wine. Leena was already licking her lips in anticipation of it.

When she got closer to the bike rack, however, she noticed a man standing in the lamplight. There were a few other bikes locked to the rack, so she moved to the curb a few feet away from the man and waited for him to be done with his own bike.

The man, dressed in a coat maybe a farmer would wear and jeans, was taking a long time to lock up his bike. And, wanting to be nice —

“Do you need some help?” she asked, taking a tentative step forward.

He turned. And it wasn’t until then that she noticed it. His grubby, stubbled face. His severe frown. The bolt cutters in his hand, with the jaws around the lock attached to her bike.

Leena’s eyebrows furrowed, the grip she had on her bag tightened. “Hey, wait a minute — “

But it was too late. There was a distinct, metallic snap as the bolt cutters went through her lock. She moved forward to stop him, knowing in the back of her mind that she would never be able to take on a man that size. He quickly ripped the lock from the bike and hopped onto the seat.

“Stop! Stop!” she shouted.

But he didn’t stop. He took off down the sidewalk at breakneck speed. She didn’t even bother to run after him. There was no way she would catch him.

“Did that really just happen?” she asked the empty street as she watched the thief and her bike disappear into the darkness.

In shock, Leena sat down on the curb. What was she supposed to do now? That stupid bike was her only mode of transportation around the city. And her apartment was too far away to walk, she’d either freeze or get robbed, again. Especially in this city. She checked her wallet for money for the bus or the train. That was a no-go. Not even a sorry penny to her name at the moment. She refused to call her mom who lived outside the city proper. She’d never let her hear the end of it and force her by guilt alone to move back out there with her. So, instead, she pulled out her RAZR and called her roommate Jamie. It was only six o’clock, she was bound to be awake for a few more hours.

It went straight to voicemail.

She tried again.

Voicemail.

One last time for good luck.

Voicemail.

Leena groaned, head tilted towards the black night sky. What the heck was she supposed to do now? Even still, she wasn’t going to call her mom. It would be embarrassing and it would take her nearly an hour to get into the city. So, with one last grimace to the universe, Leena dialed 911.

Her insides felt like they were being pulled down by an invisible string. What was that? Embarrassment? Shame? Anxiety? Maybe a bit of all three? Either way, she hated this. Her bike was gone. She was cold. And now she was calling 911 for the first time in her twenty years of life.

The other line had barely even started ringing before a stern, feminine voice answered, “911, what is your emergency?”

“Uh, yeah, I’d like to report a robbery — or — er — a theft? I guess?”

“Ma’am are you in any immediate danger? Is the thief still present?”

“No, no, I’m fine. He’s gone. He stole my bike.”

“So this is not an active emergency.”

“Correct.” Leena fiddled with the strap of her bag sitting in her lap. Her bottom was starting to get cold from the concrete.

“Alright, ma’am, did you get a good look at the suspect?” Though it was slight, Leena could tell that the dispatcher was annoyed that this wasn’t an emergency that needed GCPD’s immediate attention.

“Yes, I did. He was on 14th street headed west — on — on a bright orange bike.” She could feel her embarrassment, like a bubble, welling up inside her. Forcing unwanted tears to prick the backs of her eyes. She felt so stupid right now.

“And are you alone?”

Leena hated the tears that slipped from her eyes as she whispered, “Yes.”

“Okay. We’ll send an officer to get your statement in the morning. What is your home address?” The dispatcher hadn’t seemed to notice Leena’s building up of emotion.

“But — But…I have no way home.” The pathetic, childish words couldn’t be stopped before they escaped past her lips. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean — “

The dispatcher’s voice took on a warm tone. As if she finally understood. “It’s alright, hon.” For some reason, the term of endearment made Leena cry more. “Just sit tight. An officer is on their way now. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

Leena wiped furiously at her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. “No. No. That’s okay. You probably have more important things to do.”

“Alright, ma’am. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The line went dead and Leena stowed her phone away in her overstuffed bag. She then hugged her knees to her chest, put her head down, and waited. A few cars went by, but nobody was walking the streets. Especially not at night. Especially not after all that clown stuff with the mob went down a few months ago. She had heard from her roommate Jamie that some local ordinance was going through city council to get the rest of the criminals off the streets. But for now, most of them still ran free. Poisoning the streets of Gotham with murder, mob activity, and even petty bike theft. A shiver, like a finger of ice, ran down her spine, causing her to curl up into an even tighter ball. Maybe if she made herself as small as possible, no one would notice her sitting on the curb.

A warm hand landed gently on her shoulder. She jumped. Her head snapped up, her body instantly moving away from the hand and whoever was attached to it. Just in case they were dangerous or, and she only thought this for a split second, the bike thief coming back to get rid of his only witness.

But the hand was attached to neither of those things. In fact, the hand belonged to a police officer. Crouching beside her on the curb. His police cruiser parallel parked to their left.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he said, his voice deep, intimidating, but not lacking in caring or softness, “I’m with GCPD, I’m here to help. Are you the one who called in about the stolen bike?”

“Yeah — Yes. I am.”

He was young. Maybe a few years older than her if she had to guess. He was probably a rookie cop they sent out on stupid cases like this. She could see from his name badge that his last name was Blake. Slightly tan skin, fit and lean, closely cropped dark hair. His ears kinda stuck out on either side of his head, but it only added to his boyish good looks that made Leena’s throat close up for a second.

“Let’s take your statement in the cruiser, yeah? You must be freezing.” He cocked his head towards the parked police car, still running, beside them with a slight smile.

His brown, deep-set eyes nearly disappeared when he did that.

“Um — yeah. Yeah. That sounds good,” she said, nerves still dialed to 1,000 and hoping that once she was inside the police cruiser and relatively safe she would calm down.

Officer Blake stood first and then offered her his hand. She picked up her bag and accepted it gladly. Her legs had nearly fallen asleep from sitting on the concrete for so long, and she couldn’t feel her bottom at all it was so cold. And once she was standing, she couldn’t help but take note of the fact that he was taller than her. But he wasn’t a giant — average height. Leena shook her head as she went around to the passenger side of the car. When did she ever take note of someone’s height? Of the way their eyes disappeared when they smiled? Of their boyish good looks? He was just the police officer who was going to take a statement about the theft of her bike and hopefully take her home. That was it.

Leena, she told herself as she slid into the passenger seat, get a hold of yourself.

Once Officer Blake was in the driver’s seat, he pulled a pad of paper and a pen from his belt. “So, can you tell me exactly what happened tonight? Start from the beginning.”

“Well, I finished up over at the community center — “

“What do you do at the community center?”

“Uh — I’m a volunteer. I teach art lessons to kids on Wednesdays and Fridays,” Leena answered as she stared into her lap.

Officer Blake nodded. “So you finished up at the community center….”

“Right. I left the building and walked the block west to that bike rack.” She pointed to the rack in question.

“Why didn’t you use the bike rack in front of the community center?” he asked.

“I like to leave room for more kids if they show up — plus it was full by the time I got there this afternoon, so.” She shrugged, wondering if he was just being thorough with his questioning or he was mocking her in some way. “But when I got to the bike rack there was already a guy standing there. He was wearing jeans, worker’s boots, and like a Carhartt-type jacket. I didn’t wanna be rude. I thought he was messing with his own bike — so I stayed back to give him some space. It looked like he was struggling or something so I asked if he needed help. He — uh — didn’t. Cause then he took off with my bike.”

Officer Blake suppressed a laugh.

“That’s not funny!” Leena was struggling to keep in her own laughter now. Now that she was telling the story, there was a bit more humor there than she thought. “Okay…Maybe it’s a little funny.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He coughed to cover up the remainder of his badly disguised chuckles. “Did you get a good look at the guy?”

“I did.”

She could see him perfectly in her head. Square face, stubbled jaw, heavy brow. But she didn’t know what to say to give him a proper description.

“Can I get a description? Just as many details — “

“Uh — can I see your notepad?” Leena asked as she pulled one of the many pens from her bag.

“Um, sure.” He handed it over with a look of apprehension.

For a moment, she looked at the things he had written down. His handwriting was terrible, small chicken scratch letters that looked closer to Chinese calligraphy than English handwriting, but she could make out some things. He had written down her own description. Brown hair, blue eyes, around 5’5”, rosy cheeks, pretty. She quickly flipped to a new page and began to sketch out the man she saw. Fighting down the sudden heat that was creeping up her neck.

He thought she was pretty?

“This is easier than me trying to tell you,” she explained.

“Right. Certainly saves the sketch artists some time,” he said. As her pen moved rapidly over the paper, she felt the car shift into gear. “Where do you live?”

“Fashion District — Bayside Apartments.”

“Nice area,” he commented as he pulled away from the curb.

“It’s only nice for people you can afford to live at the Yards or the Ritz.” Leena scoffed. “Only live there cause my roommate’s a fashion designer — she's an assistant with one of those big-name brands that I can’t pronounce the name of. Bayside is an abandoned warehouse vaguely disguised as an apartment building.”

She looked up from her sketch to see him smirking as he drove. She felt heat flooding her cheeks and neck, probably turning them a blotchy shade of red. “Sorry. You didn’t need to know that.”

“It’s alright,” he answered, making her feel only slightly better.

She finished up with the sketch and nodded in satisfaction. She reckoned that it looked enough like him for the police to use it. “There. Done.”

He looked over at her finished product with raised brows. Then he smiled, his eyes disappearing for an instant. “Wow. Looks better than half the stuff our sketch artists come up with. Actually looks like a person.”

“Thanks,” Leena chuckled.

Her bag began to vibrate. It took her a moment to find her phone in the mess of sketch pads, paint supplies, and multicolored pens. But once she did, she saw that it was Jamie finally calling her back. Leena flipped open the phone in an angry huff.

“I called you three times!” Leena hissed into the phone.

“I know! Which is why I’m calling you back!” Jamie answered, not sounding bothered in the slightest.

“Well, thanks to your inability to answer your damn phone — I’m now riding in a cop car!” She turned to Officer Blake and mouthed a sorry, but he brushed it off with a wave of his hand.

“Wait — a cop car? Did you get arrested?”

“No, I didn’t get arrested!”

“Sounds like you to get arrested.”

Leena looked over at Officer Blake to see if he heard that. If he had, he wasn’t giving it away. “No, it doesn’t. Look, he’s taking me home. I’ll be there in like…Two minutes. I’ll explain everything then.”

“He? Is he cute? Did you check for a wedding ring?”

“Goodbye, Jamie.”

Leena hung up before her roommate could say anything else embarrassing.

“Your friend seems, uh — Interesting,” Officer Blake commented.

“Yeah, she’s great. She’s great.”

As secretly as she could though, she glanced over to see if she could catch a glimpse of his left hand. His arm was perched on the sill of the window while he drove with his right hand. No wedding ring. She quickly looked back to the front of the vehicle and took a deep breath. That didn’t mean he was single. No wedding ring meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just like that weird fluttering feeling she was getting in her stomach meant nothing. Just like the sly little grin she saw out of the corner of her eye meant nothing.

Nope. Not a thing.

The car pulled up to Bayside’s main entrance and Leena sighed. Even though the place was terrible, it was still home. Drafty walls, leaky sinks, fluctuating heat functionality and all. It was cheap, close to Jamie’s job, and not too far from the various places Leena went to keep herself busy.

“Can I have my notepad back please?” Leena handed it back with an embarrassed little smile. “Thanks. Now, I do have a few more questions for you, if that’s okay?”

“Oh — yeah. That’s fine.”

“Can I get a description of the bike that was stolen?”

“It’s uh — bicycle. Sorry I don’t know models or anything. It’s bright orange with a white basket and…um — and it has white tassels on the handle bars.”

Leena had always debated about whether or not she should remove the childish tassels that came on the bike that she got for ten dollars at a garage sale. But she could never truly convince herself to part with them. She liked the way they blew in the strong breezes her riding made. They reminded her of simpler times, when she had less cares and she genuinely believed she could do anything.

She caught the small smile he flashed when she mentioned the tassels though and it made her heart soar.

“Okay.” He nodded his head then added quickly, “And — uh — would you wanna go out on a date with me sometime?”

A laugh burst from Leena’s chest before she could stop it. He looked nervous. Twiddling his pen between his fingers and biting down on his bottom lip. He was trying to control his expression, but his eyes held a kind of earnest hope that made her heart squeeze in her chest.

“Sorry. Sorry. Are you even allowed to do that?” she asked. “Ya know - on the clock?”

“Probably not.” He chuckled nervously. “But I think you’re really cute and ya know — I thought that, maybe — You thought — And that there was something — “

“I’ve got one condition,” she said, feeling a thrill in her chest.

What the hell was she doing?

He looked hopeful, excited even. “What’s that?”

“You either have my bike when you come on this date,” she said, confused and excited by the words coming out of her own mouth, “Or you don’t show up at all.”

For a moment, Leena was ecstatic. She had never done anything like this in her life. Challenge someone to something like this. Be so cheeky. But when she saw the exasperated look on his face, she wilted like a houseplant someone forgot to water. Oh no. Had she ruined everything before it even began? Just because she thought it would be fun to be mischievous for once?

“I’m just — “ she started to say, but he cut her off.

“You have yourself a deal.”

Leena sprang back to life again. A wide smile enveloping her features. It nearly hurt her cheeks, she was smiling so hard. “My name’s Leena — by the way.”

“John,” he replied with a soft smile, “I’m also gonna need your last name, phone number, date of birth, and address for the statement.”

“That’s an odd way of asking for my — “

“Oh, no. I really need the information for the statement,” he said, tapping his pen on the notepad.

Leena gave the rest of her information to Officer John Blake and then exited his vehicle with a sense of professionalism that barely disguised her excitement. Once she was inside the lobby she bolted to the industrial elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she could hardly contain herself. In fact, she had such a loose cap on her excitement that after a few moments of being alone in the elevator she squealed in delight.

She had a date! Well…The potential for a date!

As soon as she opened the door to the apartment, Jamie bounced up from the couch to greet her. Jamie could have been a model if she wanted. But she would much rather design the clothes than wear them on the runway. She was tall and well toned from her years of college basketball with Gotham University. She had short, dark hair and a regal, hawk-like nose.

“Oh my, God! Lee, what the hell happened?” she asked.

Leena hung her bag on the coat rack with a smile. Then, turning to the small kitchen, she noticed the box of pizza sitting on the counter.

“Did you order pizza?”

“Yeah — to make up for the fact that I’m a terrible friend.” Jamie went over the box and flipped open the lid.

It was Leena’s favorite. Banana peppers, black olives, and italian sausage. There were only a few pieces missing. Leena gratefully went over to the counter and pulled a slice from the box. She was starving — it was nearly seven-thirty. She hummed happily as she ate, sitting down on a bar stool.

“Okay, you can be in my good graces again,” Leena said, half of her pizza slice already gone by the time she spoke.

“So, come on.” Jamie sat down on the stool beside her. “Tell me what happened!”

Leena took another bite. “I got a date!”

“You got a date? With the cop?” Jamie asked, laughter curling around every word she spoke, “You didn’t save him for me?”

“Hell no!” Leena grabbed another slice. “I haven’t been on a date in a year — plus you’re seeing that guy…Aaron?”

“Oh that was a one time thing.” Jamie rolled her eyes. “Never date a model. Trust me. But — okay, so like, how did you end up with the cop in the first place?”

“Right! Well, first my bike got stolen.”

“The Orange Streak of Lightning?”

“Yes. The Orange Streak. Anyway, it got stolen. I had no money for the bus or the train. I called you to see if you’d come pick me up.” Leena pointed an accusing finger at her roommate who only gave her a sorry smile in reply. “So I was forced to call the police and get a ride from them.”

“Hey, if I’d answered my phone you wouldn’t have a date with a cute cop right now,” Jamie pointed out as she grabbed her own slice of pizza.

Leena winced. “Well, here’s the thing…”

“Oh, no.”

“There’s no specific day yet. Cause uh — I maybe told him that he either showed up with my bike or there wasn’t a date at all.” Leena cringed at her own words.

Jamie stared at her a moment. “Why the hell would you say that?”

“I don’t know!” Leena anxiously stood up from her stool and began to pace nearly the entire length of their studio apartment. “It just came out of me! It was like I was a different person! I never say things like that! Why did I say that? I’m such an — “

“Did he agree to do it?” Jamie asked as her green eyes followed Leena’s pacing.

Leena brought her fingernails to her mouth and bit down hard. “Yeah.”

“Holy shit. He must think you’re pretty damn hot,” Jamie laughed. “What’d you do that left such an impression?”

“Nothing!” Leena quickly jumped to her own defense. Even though there really was nothing to defend. “I — I gave him my statement. I sketched out the guy who stole my bike in his notepad. That’s it!”

“Lee.” Jamie’s eyes turned soft. “When are you gonna realize that you actually are pretty damn hot?”

Lenna pulled a face and squatted down on the floor. Then finally sprawled out spread eagle on the wood flooring with the knit hat that had previously been on her head covering her face. Her insides felt like they were being pulled in every which direction. Up into her throat with excitement. Down to her feet with fear and embarrassment. Right after it had happened, it was all that she could think about. He was all that she could think about. Officer John Blake. With his boyish grin and hard brown eyes. But now she was back to reality. Back to her dingy apartment where her only personal space was her bed surrounded by curtains. Back to herself, someone who wasn’t adventurous, flirtatious, or cheeky. Back to someone who regretted giving him that stupid challenge of finding her bike because what if this was her only chance of finding someone? Of finding someone after….

“I was so excited before,” Leena groaned, her face pulled down in a perpetual frown beneath her hat.

“Why aren’t you excited now?” Jamie asked.

Leena could feel Jamie lay down on the floor beside her and take her hand.

“Cause all I can think about is — “ She turned her voice down to a whisper, afraid of saying it too loudly in fear that it may manifest some darkness. “Jacob.”

Though Leena had her eyes covered, the light coming through the red knit of her hat, she could simply feel the harsh, ice cold scowl that had taken over Jamie’s face. If looks could kill, that one would surely make anyone drop dead. And a part of Leena that she had locked away for a very long time was crushing her on the inside once more.

Jacob Grayson. She remembered when they first met. Freshmen in high school, sitting next to each other at lunch because they didn’t know where else to go. He was perfect. He wore his blonde hair spiked up and had a shell necklace from his trip to the Bahamas that summer. They instantly clicked. And pretty soon, they were dating. Leena didn’t think they would ever stop dating. She pictured her entire life with Jacob. Graduating together. Going to college together at Gotham University. He would get a business degree while she pursued a degree in art. They would find good jobs in the city, get married, have kids. All of it. He was simply perfect. Funny, smart, handsome, the first person she ever kissed or loved. All of her formative years, she was with him. Molding her life around him and a fictional life she may have with him. They did graduate together. She did end up attending Gotham University for a few years but never graduated. Jacob chose to attend an out of state college with a better business program. Leena thought they could make long distance work. She still had high hopes for the life she had planned for them.

But then he came to visit with the girl he had been cheating on Leena with.

Jacob gave the excuse that he just forgot to break up with Leena. He thought nothing of it. But it was everything to Leena. And now she finally understood why someone could kill another person. Five years of her life — wasted.

It took her a long time to get back on her feet. Months of laying around at her mom’s house. Then Jamie asked if she would move in with her. She got a job at the Sheridan Museum of Art as a personal tour guide. Leena slowly began to pick up the pieces of her life that a guy she thought she loved carelessly let fall to the floor.

“Don’t talk about him,” Jamie said, “That’s your past. A past that is best left in the past.”

“But — “ Leena ripped her hat from her face and rolled onto her side to look at Jamie. “What if — ?”

“He won’t be like that, I’m sure.” Jamie rolled onto her side as well, tucking her hands beneath her head. “Jacob was a special kind of asshole. And if he happens to be of the same breed — let’s just say I’m not afraid to hit a cop, alright?”

Leena flashed a wide grin that nearly instantly fell when her worries overcame her once more. “Do you really think I’m ready, Jay?”

“I think you are more than ready, darling. Time to finally forget that son-of-a-bitch.”

#the dark knight rises #john blake #john blake imagine #john blake x reader #john blake x you #john blake x oc #dark knight #dark knight imagine #dark knight fic #dark knight fanfic #dark knight fanfiction #john blake fic #john blake fanfic #john blake fanficition #joseph gordon levitt #jgl #nolan batman #dark knight trilogy

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bonkwrites · 4 years

Text

Fuck You (Dumbass)

Request: Hi!How about Bakugo and reader can't stand eachother?Like,they always mock eachother and make fun of eachother.And he can't stand them but he secretly admires them cuz they're the first person to "bully" him and they're strong enough to hurt him in a fight.And maybe he starts catching feelings

Pairing: Bakugou x NB!Reader

Warnings: a lot of cursing. some minor bullying but always bully men (am I right or am i right?) so is it really bullying? being held captive?

I kind of want to make this a two-parter so let me know what you think!

____

The first time you met Katsuki Bakugou was on mission. Neither of you had established agencies yet. He was working under Endeavor and you were freelancing which meant, any agency could call you in for a mission. You were double-quirked, an odd phenomenon that your parents had done intentionally. Similar, you found out when you were applying to U.A., to a Shoto Todoroki a year above you. Mind-Reading and Telekinesis left you a target for a lot of agencies. Most of them only saw you for your quirks, not you actual skill or personality.

The Mission you met Bakugou on was a rescue mission gone pear-shaped, leaving the both of you captured in the base of the League of Villains. You were locked in a bar together, tied to a chair, hands bound in cuffs that made them completely immobile.

“Hey, dumbass.” Bakugou whispered from the other side of the room. You leaned your head forward, your head was pounding from one of the villains’ mean right-hook.

“What the fuck do you want, asshole?” You ask in reply, glaring at him.

Bitch, he thinks. You scoff.

“Did you learn anything?” He asks.

“I can’t fucking concentrate with this migraine. Stop fucking talking.” You lean your head back on the chair and close your eyes, hoping to get some sleep to cure your migraine.

You’re rudely awoken by someone smacking you across the face. Gasping, you look up to find Dabi, the blue fame villain, staring down at you.

“You’re gonna tell me what I want to know.” He grasps your chin harshly, definitely leaving bruises behind.

“Or what? You’re gonna torture me?”

I want to burn her to ashes, Dabi thinks.

“Wait, hang on, what exactly do you need to know?” You ask. “Is it about All For One? The Nomu?”

“Where’s Deku?” Dabi asks. You ‘ah’ in realization.

“So that’s what this is about. What makes you think I give a shit about Deku? I’m freelance, asshole, I’m with the Heroes because they benefit me. The second they stop be useful, they don’t matter to me anymore.” Your words come out like they’re biting him. He sneers at you, lip upturned.

We fucking struck out with her, he thinks. I’m gonna kill that fucking idiot.

They untie Bakugou and you watch as they push him out of the room. You struggle against the restraints and shout for them to bring him back in.

“Why do you care?” Dabi puts his hand around your neck, staples digging into your skin. “Is he your little boyfriend?”

“Fuck you.” You spit in his face and he flinches, wiping it off with his sleeve.

“That’s fucking disgusting, you know that?” He swears.

“You’re fucking disgusting, you know that?” You retort, struggling against the restraints again.

“We could really use someone like you here, y/n.” Dabi pulls his hand away from your throat, pulling the seat Bakugou had been tied to previously towards him to sit in front of you.

“That’s the approach you’re taking here?” You scoff out a laugh. “There’s no way you pay better.”

“You hate them too, don’t you?” Dabi asks, referring to the heroes. “That’s why you don’t associate with them, you’re… ‘freelance’.”

“So fucking what?” You ask. “You think I’m joining the League of Villains? What would I join for, huh? You don’t pay better, I’d be on the run from the commission, and you smell bad.”

“Guess I can’t force you.” Dabi concedes, leaning back in his chair. “Let’s talk, though, tell me what you know about Hawks.”

“I’ve never worked with him before.” You reply. You never wanted to- he was too popular and way too cocky for you.

“Why not?” Dabi asks. You give him a confused look. “Well, you’re a well-known hero open for teams all year round with a fantastic history of taking down whoever you face.”

“Hawks is too popular, I don’t want the spotlight.” You reply.

“But, so is that explosion boy in the next room. Graduating UA at the top of his class, interning with Endaevor, he’s hot headed and handsome- fans love him.” Dabi’s caught you and knows he has. You try to think of a reply.

“I was hoping I’d meet Endeavor.” You lie. He believes you.

“You’re an Endeavor fan girl? Never would have guessed-“

“I was hoping I could meet Endeavor to punch him square in his fucking teeth.” You put force behind your words and his eyebrows raise in amusement.

“Don’t let the commission hear you say that, little hero.” He stands up at the sound of Bakugou screaming. You look to the door, trying to formulate an escape.

“Sounds like they need me in there.” Dabi starts to walk towards the door. He opens it and then pauses, turning around to look at you.

“Will you still like him when he’s ashes?” With a chuckle, he shuts the door.

I won’t tell them, you hear Bakugou thinking from the next room, I can’t tell them.

You close your eyes, thinking about how to get out. From when Dabi opened the door you could tell there was a hallway out there. With how damp and cold it was you were definitely underground. They knew Bakugou would try to blow this place up if he got out. A blast down here would bring the earth or building above down and no one would survive.

The door opens again and Bakugou is dragged in.

Is she next? he thinks. They don’t tie him back up, instead they lay him on the floor. Groaning, he looks over at you.

“I didn’t tell them.” Bakugou swears to you.

“Good.” You say. “Are you alright, shithead?”

“I’m fucking fine.” He groans.

“Yeah, right.” You quip, looking down at your restraints. There’s no one in the room or outside, as far as you can from the thoughts of the others. They all sound too far away.

“Listen, I can get the cuffs off but when I do you can’t blow anything up.” He glares at you and you scowl in response.

“We are underground, idiot.” You hiss at him. “You blow this place up and we die.”

“So what are we doing then?” He asks. You huff.

“Believe it or not, Bakugou, you are not the be-all-end-all of fucking heroes. When I get the cuffs off we’re sneaking out. I think there’s a door at the end of the hallway.” You reply, trying to keep your voice down.

“Can’t you just use your quirk or something?” He asks, huffing as he sits himself up against the wall.

“Yeah, Bakugou, let me just lift the whole fucking building off its foundation. Will you clean up my brains when my head fucking explodes or is that the janitors job?” You ask in reply, feeling more frustrated now than ever.

You look down at your hands, trying to focus on the tiny amount of wiggle room your finger have to start bending the metal away. You catch it before it hits the floor and you freeze, listening for anyone’s thoughts. They’re still far away, blocked mostly by walls and doors probably. You get Bakugou’s off next and you use your quirk to bend the padlock on the door so that it opens.

He follows behind you, both of your barefoot to reduce noise. You make your way to the end of the hallway, opposite the door at the other end, and push the window at the top of the wall open. You slide through first and pull Bakugou up next.

“How the fuck did we do that-“

“Shut the fuck up.” You hiss at him. Their thoughts are clearer than before and if the lights coming from inside are anything to guess you’d think they were right above you both.

You take his hand and pull him behind you along the side of the house until you get to the road and you start running. You’re still in the city, but you have to run through several alleys before you make it to a busy street.

“If it wasn’t for you we never would have gotten in that situation.” Bakugou grunts as you walk along the street, trying to figure out where you are. You tense up, trying to restrain yourself from hitting him.

“Fuck you, shithead. Eat shit.” You want to abandon him right here, let him find his own way back, but you wouldn’t feel right about that.

“Fuck you too.” He curses.

“You know what, Bakugou, I don’t know who the fuck taught you that being an absolute piece of shit was going to get you anywhere in life. Stop being such a fucking stereotype.” You dig into him, finally letting it all out. God, he really pissed you off.

“I-“

“No, fuck you. Find your own fucking way. Tell Endeavor that he knows where to send my money.” You throw up your hands with an exasperated sigh and walk away.

Damn, you hear him think, that’s so fucking hot.

#my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia fic #my hero acamdemia oc #my hero acadamia fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou #bakugou x reader #nb reader

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

That One Scene (of many!)

Earlier, @janetm74 sent me an ask including the question “What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)” I linked to several old snippets, but also said I might write out a scene that’s been in my head for literally a year. This is that scene. There has been zero editing and I haven’t even read it through since writing it, so it’s liable to be riddled with errors.

Part of a vague idealistic rewrite of the 2004 movie, which at this point in the plotline doesn’t resemble the movie much at all, but you can’t expect me not to throw in some good old Scott!whump now, can you? Teeny tiny hint of Gordon!whump thrown in as well, and John fans... I’m sorry? (I’m not)

“My dear Jeff.” The Hood’s voice was pitched like silk, but dripped like oil. “You must be so proud of your boy right now. Look at him, pulling off a rescue solo even though he knows he’s being hunted.”

Jeff didn’t answer, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen where reporters yelled praise for the solitary Thunderbird that had taken charge of the danger zone and organised the rescue efforts from the local authorities. Tried to block out those same voices turning in the next breath and wondering where the rest of International Rescue were, why Thunderbird Two and the firefighting equipment wasn’t there. One woman even observed that Thunderbird One hadn’t landed, but was set in an autopilot hover a little way up in the sky.

The guidance processors must be in her. Scott would never risk the technology falling into the Hood’s hands, even while he followed his heart and directed firefighters and led evacuations.

“Like Scott would let you stop him.” Gordon’s voice was snide and mocking, and Jeff fought the urge to tell him to shut up, that antagonising the man would do more harm than good. “Jealous?”

A yelp, and Jeff tore his eyes from the screen to see Gordon curling in on himself, teeth grit and eyes blazing in defiance. The Hood’s eyes were a blazing red, before fading back to a more human colour. The transformation put Jeff’s teeth on edge.

“Jealous of a child who doesn’t know when to prioritise his own skin? I think not,” Kyrano’s brother dismissed, raising a phone to his mouth. “I think he’s played hero long enough.” The expression on his face looked like a smile, but it was too twisted, too cruel, for the label. Jeff’s eyes widened in horror and he lunged forwards, only for the restraints around his arms to slam him back against the leg of his own desk.

“No!”

“Detain him.” The order was spoken into the phone, but the Hood met Jeff’s eyes and held them. Like the cat that got the cream, except Jeff had never seen a cat quite so sadistic. “Do whatever it takes to get the guidance processors.” He lowered the phone slowly, deliberately, without even ending the call.

It was unnerving, how quickly the men helping Scott on the screen turned, a friendly clap on the shoulder turning into a hard punch and immersing his eldest son in the middle of a brawl where he was quite frankly too outnumbered.

“No!” Jeff shouted again, fighting against the unrelenting restraints. Beside him, his two sons were snarling their own protests. “Stop them!” Scott was a trained fighter, but so were the Hood’s pet thugs. There were screams from the television, reporters dumbfounded at the sudden violence towards a member of the world’s favourite rescue organisation, camera feeds shaking as they ran back, away from the brawl.

Only one stayed focused, steadily approaching as the flash of dirty white uniform slammed to the ground. The camera person, whoever they were – no doubt in the Hood’s posse – walked right up to the knot of bodies, and the men parted before them. Scott, his brave, brave son, pushed himself up with defiance sparking in his eyes, but there were too many and Jeff closed his eyes rather than watch the brutal attacks up close.

“Oh, Jeff,” the Hood coaxed. “What a cowardly father, unable to watch his son fight for his life. Where’s that Tracy stubbornness now? Or did that skip a generation? Young Scott seems to have it. I’m sure the other one, the one in that space station… what was his name?”

John. Jeff hadn’t even begun to process that, the frantic MayDay call cut off mid-transmission as Thunderbird Five exploded. Not with invaders in his home, threatening his other sons, out scouring for his missing youngest, wherever Alan was hiding. He hadn’t seen him since he’d failed to answer Jeff’s summons after messing around with Thunderbird One. At the time, that had been a source of blind fury. Now it was relief – the Hood’s men hadn’t returned yet, which meant they hadn’t found him. One son was safe for the moment.

Not with Scott hunted across the globe because his eldest son had somehow known trouble was coming. Jeff still didn’t know why he’d launched without permission, and feared he’d never get the chance. To lose one son in one day was heart-shattering. To lose two – or more… Jeff wouldn’t survive it.

“John,” Virgil growled, the sound out of place coming from his middle, peace-making son. “His name is John, you bastard.” Is, not was. Denial. Maybe Jeff was still in that stage, too.

“Young John,” the Hood continued. Jeff opened his eyes to see him giving Virgil an inclined head of acknowledgement. Virgil just looked murderous. “He would have had it too, I’m sure. Certainly these two sons of yours here have it, Jeff. No doubt the youngest will put up a fight when he’s found, too.”

“You won’t touch him,” Jeff snarled. In the background, he could hear grunts and thwacks from the television, but his attention stayed firmly on the monster standing in front of him.

“I don’t need to, Jeff,” the Hood sighed. “Do you need another demonstration to remind you?” The threat hung in the air, waiting for something. What, Jeff wasn’t sure. “Look at the screen, Jeff, or one of these brave young men next to you will be finding out just how long he can last.”

Jeff sent him a glare, one act of defiance to declare that he wasn’t defeated, before reluctantly looking back at what was happening to his eldest son, alone and outnumbered far beyond his reach.

Scott was on his knees in front of the camera, blue eyes still sparking defiantly as he fought against the beefy grips pinning him down. Blood ran down the side of his face, bruises already beginning to form on every part of exposed skin Jeff could see, and his heart ached.

“Where are they?” an unfamiliar voice demanded. Scott spat blood. It landed square on the camera lens.

“Go to hell,” he ground out, voice still strong despite the pain lacing through it. Blue eyes focused on the camera, looking almost through it. “You want to steal the Thunderbirds? Over my dead body, you bastard.”

He was addressing the Hood, Jeff realised. He glanced at the man to see his jaw tighten, a tic developing that proved he knew it, too. Long, slender fingers twitched, something loosely resembling a fist before they forcibly relaxed.

“That can be arranged,” he said with a fake levity, bringing the phone up to his mouth again. “Well? You heard the young man. Kill him. Thunderbird One will be easy pickings without her pilot.”

“No!” Not another son. Not any of his sons, and why would Scott say that? The Hood was right – Thunderbird One would be easily boarded without him, even if they just had to wait for her to run out fuel. Scott wasn’t stupid, wouldn’t throw away his life like that.

The men on the screen hesitated, looking around and up, presumably at the Thunderbird in question. How high was she? Where had Scott directed her autopilot? Jeff’s heart was in his mouth; he could feel it on his tongue, thrumming fast and loud.

Then it happened. A flicker of movement, a loud impact, and Scott lurched forwards as the camera cut.

“SCOTT!”

more>>>

#scott tracy #jeff tracy #the hood #gordon tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #thunderbirds 2004 #wip snippet #tsari writes fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #i know not technically the right canon but those are my tags...#thunderangst #thunderwhump

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sidespromptblog · 4 years

Text

Writers’ Deal

Summary: Remus is writer who is absolutely sure that his writer’s block has gotten the best of him, when a friend who he hasn’t seen in months suddenly comes back into his life, changing it for the better.

Warnings: Heavy Kissing (Last paragraph or so), Self worth issues (Remus), and Writer’s block (Remus).

Word Count: 4300

AO3 LINK

There was a fact about writing that Remus had come to learn in his entire career as an author despite the fact that he had literally been doing it for years, and that was…

Writing was hard.

Even when it wasn’t, the writing was always hard.

Roman wasn’t even there and it still felt as impossible as when he was there. There were no distractions, no noises, and not a single thing was happening outside to stop him from writing. And yet…

The typewriter mocked him, just as the white and very blank page inside of it mocked him. The words were in his head, they were ready to come out onto the page so that he could finally finish this damned book and have it sent out to his editor. He could envision the sentences, he could see what his characters were going to say and what they were going to do, he knew how they were going to react to the kinds of things he was going to put them through, he even knew what the fucking ending was going to be.

But. Nothing. Came.

With the sound of what must have been a dying whale, Remus mournfully thumped his head against the table. As his hands that had been primed and ready to type flopped uselessly down to his side, feeling as they were weighed down by lead making him ready to be thrown into the ocean and drowned so that salt crystals could grow in his lungs as the fish nibbled at his dead body. Anything honestly felt better than the sheer uselessness that he was going through right now, at this point… he almost wished that Roman was back just so that he could have something to do as he tormented his brother.

Or even if he were to come back then…

Remus shook the thought right out of his head, as he pitifully stared at his typewriter with all of the sadness that a dog had when it’s food bowl was just mere inches out of reach.

He really did need to write something… anything really.

With a dreadful sigh, he picked his head back up and lifted his head, prepared to just word vomit at this point and force himself past the dreadful writer’s block that had claimed the past few weeks of his time. He just needed to start writing that was it, just to press his fingers against the keys and get going. He just had to-

Almost as soon as his finger pressed down on the key, a loud trilling ring echoed throughout his house as the doorbell to the front door went off. And with a miserable groan, Remus’ head collided with the desk once again as his train of thought was abruptly cut off leaving him scrambling for the words that he was about to type. Just for the doorbell to go off again and again and again.

“Are fucking-” Remus growled to himself as he shoved his chair back, so roughly that he was certain that he heard something crack with all of the force he had put behind it. “Really at this time?! Who on the fucking planet is going to ring my bell at this time?! I swear when I get my hands on them…”

Marching down the grand stairs, Remus made a beeline for the front door ready to yank it open and tell whoever was there just how he felt about their insistent ringing. Very colorfully too, there had been quite a few new words he had been wanting to try out, and now he had the perfect target in mind. Making it to the door, he wasted no time at all in yanking it open, his mouth open and ready for his select words.

Just for his brain to short wire itself, and stop him dead in his tracks.

“Logan…” Remus breathed out, his breath misting like fog in front of his mouth in the cold night air. He stood there frozen for a second at the sight of the other man who’s finger had been prepped to ring the bell yet again.

“Remus.” Just one warmly uttered little word, and it was just his name at that. And already Remus couldn’t help but for his gaze to sweep over Logan up and down.

His suit jacket was folded neatly as ever had been thrown over his arm leaving him with the crisp rolled-up sleeves of his deep blue button-up shirt and vest open to the world as he stood there as straight as could be. The smile that he gave Remus was small, but it spoke so many languages that he both could and couldn’t understand, as the softness in his eyes said it all. It had been months since he had seen the man in front of him, and just about every part of him both felt like it was the same and looked completely new all at once.

His black painted lips, that quirked into the wonderful little mischevious smirk that Remus knew from years of committing “crimes” together. The deep raven black hair with curls that made his soft face seem softer, curls that Remus would even be able to memorize in his sleep. And those eyes… oceanic blue, hidden behind the crystalline structure of his circular spectacles...

He looked as beautiful as ever.

Just like a deity, or perhaps a temptress that had just stepped out of the french paintings in Italy just to grace Remus with his gorgeous presence. He looked so... so enticing, like one wave of his hand could convince legions of demons to do his bidding, and more. That… and exceedingly cold. “You must be freezing,” He sputtered, hastily stepping away from his doorway as so to make room for Logan. “Come in! Come in!”

In mere minutes Logan awkwardly stood by the counter of his kitchen, his finger dipping into the empty teacup as he languidly spun it around on its saucer. To anyone who didn’t know Logan, he would have looked completely at ease, but Remus could see the tension building into his shoulders with each awkward silence that passed them by. Granted it had been months since the last they had seen each other, but talking… it had never been an issue for them. Remus was usually really adept at filling in any kind of silence with disgusting commentary on what he was going to write in the bloodiest goriest detail possible, while Logan would merely sit and listen only interjecting when he had something really cool to say.

“So,” Remus began, waiting for the water to boil so that he could actually do something. “Ho-”

“Remus did you like me?” Logan interrupted, cutting off Remus’ words dead in their tracts, “I mean like as in… the romantic sense, not the platonic. I know you like me platonically, otherwise, you’d try to be as gross as possible to get me out of your house like you did with Roman’s last conquest. I just…” Logan’s fingers drummed against the countertop, completely abandoning the teacup at this point. “I need to know.”

Every little bit of moisture in Remus’ mouth had utterly evaporated the longer that Logan had talked, and his heart that had felt perfectly fine before… now felt as if he was going through an Olympic running tournament with little to no training. In his pockets, his hands shook and trembled as if he had just stepped out in negative degree weather. Just about every bodily reaction that he could have, all told him that he should be panicking and denying everything all at once while leaving no room for Logan to question their stellar friendship.

Except…

Remus wasn’t a liar.

And not only that but… he couldn’t lie to Logan, he could never lie to Logan. Not only had they been friends for years, but… Logan had always trusted him with the truth. He had always trusted him to tell the truth and to be given the truth, should everyone around Logan lie… he was always the one that Logan went to in order to get things straight. He would know if Remus was lying, and to lie to Logan’s face about emotional matters more than anything would hurt Logan’s trust in him and damage everything more than a simple confession would.

It would hurt Logan if he lied.

“You say it like it’s past tense...” He cracked a smile before he swallowed thickly, attempting to garner more courage than he actually felt as he straightened his back. As if doing so would make it hurt less when he was rejected in the end. “I do still like you actually, quite a lot.” Remus began in the kind of tone that was meant to be defensive, “Since we were kids and pushed you in the mud, and instead of crying like everyone else you threw a mudball at me, and called me a word that I had to look up in the dictionary later. Ever since you threw that very same dictionary at Roman when he said that I couldn’t be a writer with how demented and messed up my imagination was. Ever since you sent me your first book thanking me. And ever since you left for your book signing trip months ago. Since a lot of times.”

By the end of his little rant, Remus felt almost breathless as he stood there in the middle of the kitchen with his longtime crush merely staring back at him with a look that almost felt like pity. It was the kind of look that almost made Remus bristle had it not been coming from Logan, he didn’t want pity though… he had never wanted pity from anyone in his entire life.

Moving slowly though, Logan approached Remus from his place on the other side of the kitchen, tentatively his fingers reached out curling gingerly around the cuff of Remus’ sleeve. It was a practiced movement if anything, but at the same time a scared one all the same.

The look on Logan’s face was unreadable, “Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why not confess?” He whispered, and for a moment it felt like it was just the two of them in a tiny little world, with nothing outside of the space of the kitchen.

Beside them, the kettle boiled and bubbled, just moments away from screaming.

Remus almost felt the same.

“Why not?” He asked back, a sarcastic lilt to his voice. “Who would ever want me?”

He had always been Roman’s less talented brother, the messed up one, the one that shouldn’t have been born first, and out of so much else… the one that shouldn’t have been born at all. It was no mistake what others thought about him, he had only met Logan through Roman’s friends and even then… to ask anything more from Logan… To ask for a relationship outside of their peaceful beautiful friendship, it would have been too much. He had already taken years from Logan when they had gone to school and college together, there was no way that he could ask for the other man’s entire life on top of all of that too…

Instead of saying any of that though, Remus merely shook his head turning back to the kettle as steam curled out of the spout with its scream.

“I want you.”

The kettle in Remus’ hand clattered loudly against the stovetop as he nearly dropped it, just to roughly set it down so that it didn’t send boiling water everywhere. For what felt like the first time in forever he had nothing, he had no witty comeback that Logan could laugh at, no sarcastic quip, and no smart-assed retort to give back to those three simple words that had left Logan’s mouth all too easily. His bones just felt jittery, like at any second they’d move independent from his muscular system and tear right out of his flesh and cause him immense pain and suffering.

This should have been a dream come true, and for whatever reason… he was stalling.

Remus licked his lips, his mouth more dry than ever. “Why… why don’t we move this to my office?” He instead offered, their cups now full of tea and ready to be drunk.

After this, he’d definitely need some spiked tea, or maybe just straight down the whole thing of rum to ease him through the night.

With Logan’s nod, they both carried their respective cups into the next room.

“So…” Remus awkwardly twiddled his thumbs as he sat there in front of Logan after the other man had been sitting for a while, both of them had refused to speak for a while as they sipped at the warm liquid. Both of them complete and utter disasters. “How’s the tea?”

Of course, it would be good, he had never forgotten how to make Logan’s favorite cup of tea. It was forever imprinted into his mind, just as the sight of Logan’s face was forever there too. That wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that one forgot when they had been in love for years. The clattering of the teacup against the saucer answered him well enough, as the other man gently set the empty cup down onto his desk, making sure to avoid the paperwork that littered Remus’ messy desk.

Remus’s gaze followed Logan’s delicate fingers as the other pushed a thick lock of curly black hair out of his soft-sided face. Instinctively Remus clutched his own hand tighter, forcing himself not to reach over and tuck that same piece of hair out of Logan’s way when it flopped right back against the other’s cheek just as it had been doing before. It was such a strange temptation to have, given that Logan was finally here in the flesh sitting right there before him. Beautiful and untouchable, just as he had always been towards everyone in his life.

“Remus,” Logan began as he crossed his legs, “Let me get straight to the point before your idiotic brother returns…”

And just like that the warmth that had burned in his chest since Logan had rung his doorbell, all but fizzled out like it had been doused by a bucket full of cold water. While it was true that Logan always had a rather strict way of speaking, and just about everything that he said was serious, but the fact that he wanted this out before his brother could return... it filled Remus with a strange kind of fear that took ahold of his lungs and refused to let him breathe in or out. Even swallowing didn’t do him any favors, as the lump in his throat choked him like a fishbone that he had forgotten to remove from his dinner.

“Yes?”

Somehow… somehow he managed to get that one word out, and how he managed it he had no idea.

Was something wrong? Had Logan come all of this way to tell him some bad news? Roman was always rather dramatic, so the only reason that Logan wouldn’t want him around was if it was something bad. Was it something bad? Was he sick? Was he hurt? Was… Was he dying?

Logan cleared his throat as he readjusted himself on the chair that Remus had pulled around his desk for him. He looked uncomfortable.

Oh gods from above, he was dying.

“Remus,” Logan began again, but not before reaching forward gingerly laying his hand on top of the other man’s. For a split second their fingers almost interlocked as Logan’s curled around his, his hand was… it was warm. Warm in the kind of way he had imagined that it would be, to offset Logan’s icy demeanor. “I would like to… should you be alright with it… I would like to write a book with you.”

Everything that had been running amok in Remus’ head came to a screeching halt, and every thought that had been running through Remus’ head about not clutching Logan’s hand and the other dying went completely out of the window.

Now he grasped the other man’s hand, their fingers fitting neatly against one another’s, and for a moment he was rewarded with a tiny smile from the other man.

“You.” Remus pointed with his other hand to Logan, garnering a simple nod from the other. “And… and me?” He gasped pointing back to himself, nearly becoming nothing more than a puddle on the floor at Logan’s nearly invisible but clearly affectionate look as he nodded again giving his hand another squeeze. “You and me?” He asked again, just to clarify that this somehow wasn’t a dream and that he hadn’t died and gone straight to heaven.

“You and I.” Logan smoothly answered and also corrected, as he leaned in his half-lidded eyes gazing back at Remus with a look that felt like a promise.

If it was possible, Remus would have ascended right then and there. He would have fallen into Logan’s arms, and died a very VERY happy man just from those three words alone. But the constant grip on his hand kept him very firmly in the present, and very much away from Death’s door and in turn the afterlife as well.

He couldn’t believe it, he honestly and truly couldn’t believe it.

"You... Actually want to work with me?" Remus incredulously asked his eyebrows rising with each second. Out of everyone, he would have thought that Logan of all people would have been the very last person on earth who would ever want to collaborate with him for a book of all things. Everyone knew what Remus’ books were like. All gore, blood, death, and murder. There wasn’t a happy ending in sight, and just about everyone who had read his books did so with either disgust, or the scientific curiosity of his previous psychiatrist had before he had recommended him to another doctor.

His imagination scared people, despite the tiny following of horror enthusiasts that claimed to love him.

People much rather preferred Roman’s work. What with all of its fanciful happy endings, faeries, dragons, and princes saving other princes from certain doom.

He had read one of Roman’s books before, and he’d had to stop himself from throwing up at the sheer number of lovey-dovey grossness of it all. There was just so much happiness to be found in Roman’s world of creativity, with darker turns that could have been taken, utterly abandoned for the sake of giving every single one of his stories a pure and happy ending. Then again… there was a reason why Roman had never asked him to proofread any of his books, or even to tell his brother what he thought of them.

Remus’ opinion very much wasn’t his type.

He knew Logan’s type though, just as well as he knew the back of his hand. The other writer was as strict as could be and straight-laced despite being very much…

Gay as hell.

Nevertheless, his original protests didn’t stop the smile that curled onto Logan's lips before a smooth chuckle left the other man just to be hidden by his hands. As if displaying such a reaction was the most hideous to the other man in the highest degree. Completely unaware of just how it made Remus’ internal organ’s squish gleefully around inside of him, instead of the normal butterflies that ordinary people claimed to have when their crush so much as smiled in their direction.

And Logan had not only smiled at him, but had laughed too.

Logan Briller.

A man of so many mysteries and inquiries that had left hundreds of less fortunate authors just like Remus willing to rip apart anyone just for a chance to be in the same room as him. Let alone receive a book deal like this… well, it was practically unheard of. Nobody… nobody had ever gotten Logan Briller to agree to a collaborative deal on a book. Never.

Never ever.

Remus would especially know, especially given that his brother would never shut up about it given how many times Logan had denied him. Unlike Roman, he had known that he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of ever getting Logan to professionally work with him. Logan had turned down some of the best authors in the country, authors who in their own merit were worth hundreds more than Remus could ever hope to accomplish in one lifetime. There were some times where Remus couldn’t even believe the people that had asked, and the people that hadn’t succeeded.

But then again… none of them had ever known Logan like Remus did…

"Remus, it's fairly simple.” A gentle touch on his cheek dragged him right out of his musings. “I know that you can see it too, Remus..." The man in question could feel his cheeks warming like the top of a scummy pond during the start of a new summer’s day, as Logan leaned in his arms caging him inside of the chair he had been seated in. The other's warm breath rolling over his lips they were so close, he could smell Logan’s favorite minty tea. "You write the murder... And I..."

If it was even possible those his gorgeous black painted lips that gleamed exquisitely in the lighting of his office were even closer than before, he could feel them just barely brushing against his own before pulling away before Remus could get a good feel of them. He was almost certain that the other man was purposefully being a tease, the second time he did it. That same quirky smile on his lips that made Remus both want to seize his hips so that he couldn’t move, and… utterly swoon under the other male’s gaze.

If he were to trip then…

Remus mentally shook himself as he stared back at the other writer, he was so close that Remus could see the exact shade of Logan's deep blue eyes that ran with undercurrents of icy blue. It was like staring into crystals they were so blue and beautiful, he could imagine them already… men and women alike bewitched by gorgeous sapphires in order to do the most heinous crimes against man. They’d rip out other people’s eyes, trying to find the exact shade of the illusive man that they desperately aimed for, just to fall flat each and every time.

"And I,” Logan began, making Remus’ eyes dart down to his lips, “Will write the mystery.” Logan swallowed, for a split second the smooth bobbing of his adam’s apple had Remus’ attention, but only for a moment as that warm flush filled him up again. “Fair?"

There was no hesitation as Remus' hands slid around Logan's back, his fingers wrinkling that perfectly buttoned vest as he dug his fingers into Logan’s hips his fate utterly sealed as he firmly pressing the man solidly against his chest. For years he had wanted this, he had wanted Logan’s attention. After watching him with so many of his lovers that were never Remus, he had been content to watch and never ask. To just be Logan’s friend when it had turned out that those people were only using the writer to gain more publicity and favor. He had been content to cherish and comfort the other, while mentally hunting down those who had harmed his heart in such an under the skin fashion.

But now… here and now.

He could feel Logan's heart sporadically thumping in tandem against his own.

It betrayed how Logan was really feeling under all of that confidence he had garnered over the years, it told him just how Remus’ close proximity made his heart jump, and just how the touch of his hands had made the other practically melt. Had it not been for that reaction alone, Remus was sure that Logan would have been tugging at his strings like the puppeteer to a flesh puppet. But it was there, the dainty flush dusting over the tops of Logan’s cheeks and ears. The way that the other man’s pupils had dilated when he had pulled him in close, and the way that his breathing had shuddered so obviously.

There was no denying it.

"Fair." He breathed back.

And like sealing a deal with the devil, their lips collided in a messy meeting of pure logic and utter chaos. Remus never wanted to let him go, as Logan practically folded into his lap, straddling the other writer as his fingers dug into his hair with the passion of something that had been restrained for years. Remus bit at Logan’s lip, tasting the mint tea from the teacup that had rested against those perfect lips just moments ago. He had been jealous of that cup, but right now… he savored every bite he could get as he swallowed the sounds that bubbled up in Logan’s throat.

Tomorrow they would need to work out the details of their contract. But tonight…

“Remus… Remus. Remus. Remus…” Logan practically chanted against the other man’s lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt the other’s hand languidly stroking its way down his back like one would a fancy feline. His body moved with Remus’ touch, as if this was something that neither of them had to practice for.

As if they had been together for years.

Neither one of them were going to regret this.

#remus sanders #ts remus #ts remus sanders #sympathetic remus #gay disaster Remus #pining remus #logan sanders #ts logan #ts logan sanders #intrulogical #romantic intrulogical #ts sanders sides #ts sides #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts sanders sides fanfiction

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knightofameris · 4 years

Text

an outstanding performance — marvel (stark!reader)

Setting: an AU where Peter never quit band and Michelle, Flash, and others are also in band, platonic fic!!! Gender: Neutral! Contains: fluff Word Count: 3.7k (I GOT CARRIED AWAY HOLY SHIT)

Summary: Being Tony’s kid meant everyone expected you to be some prodigy in some way. And you were—a musical prodigy at least. The last year of marching band was approaching and you’re definitely gonna be heartbroken. But as long as you had Peter, Ned, and MJ by your side it’ll all be okay

a/n: I wanted to pump something out since I haven’t posted and I’ve always wanted to write something with Peter in band because I WAS A BAND KID IN HIGH SCHOOL. So. It’s also not my best work but I had fun because i reALLY MISS BAND. AND THIS IS JUST A COMFORT FIC FOR ME TBH LMAO [repost from my old account @knightofmarvel]

There’s a lot of band terms that I don’t think people will understand unless you were a band kid so here’s a little… mini explanation. This is what I used for my band by the way.

Sound off = just be louder I guess? Met = metronome The box = the area in the stadium where the announcer is always in Trumpet, mellophone, baritone/euphonium, tuba = brass instruments Flute, clarinet, alto sax, tenor sax, bari sax, bass clarinet = woodwind instruments Percussion = anything you can hit with a stick basically (including piano because piano keys control something that hits the string) Guard/color guard = the people who spin flags, sabers, and rifles. They also toss it in the air and do other crazy shit (deadass, guard people were so badass i dont get why people called them discount cheerleaders when guard works just has hard, if not harder. like u try tossing a fucking rifle up in the air. this girl legitimately went an entire show after splitting her brow causing her to bleed horribly and finished smiling soooo) Drum majors = people who conduct and is also basically in charge of the entire band Reps = doing something over and over, usually a certain exercise in music or marching technique or a certain part(s) of the show Set = Can mean multiple things, either a certain part of the show or getting ready for the rep they’re about to do (usually shown by holding the instrument up in “set” position) Stand-by = relaxed but still in attention Holding at pistol/rifle = more relaxed but usually saved in show or when instructors/whoever tells stories. Different instruments have different positions thus the pistol/rifle Horns up = instrument in mouth Horns down = instrument not in mouth, same position as Set.

Let me know if there are any mistakes! **no beta, we die like men

Enjoy!

“Senior year boyyysssssssss!” You screamed once you entered campus that warm summer morning. Ned and Peter turned around to see you running towards them, about to tackle them. Other band leaders, and especially the senior drum majors, cheered with you.

Ned and Peter, however, did not.

Instead, their eyes widened in fear and they raised their arms up, telling you to not jump at them. But alas, it was too late and you tackled them to the ground.

“Dog pile!” Someone, Adam (one of the drum majors) probably, shouted. And one by one, a group of your fellow bandmates fell on top of you. Each one of them caused you to let out a breath. Peter and Ned taking the brute of it.

“Alright alright, you idiots,” your band directed teased. You all looked up to see Mrs. Ha standing there with her hands on her hips. “Get up, you guys are scaring the freshmen.” She glanced over to the bandroom door where tiny heads were sticking out.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, everyone starting to stand up off of each other. You raised both of your hands down for Peter and Ned, they both took it and you helped them up.

“Damn, (Y/n), why’d you have to do that?” Ned asked. He then reached down for his hat. Something that was mandatory for all band members to wear during practice. Especially during band camp in the summer.

“It’s tradition!” You cheered, wrapping your arm around each of their neck. “Can you guys believe it? We’re seniors.”

“Yeah, and you’re woodwind captain man,” Peter nudged you in the side.

You grinned and then walked in front of them to grab your backpack, clarinet case, and water jug. You turned around once they were all in hand. “Yeah, but at least I got my two trusty section leaders to lead with me.”

“What about me?”

The three of you turned around to see MJ with her hand on her hip. She had a slight smirk on her face.

“Uh,” you started to say, “to be fair, you’re in the brass section.”

“You could have switched,” MJ retorted, walking up to you and lightly punching you in the shoulder.

And you could have. Afterall, you were a musical prodigy. Especially considering the fact that you were the kid of Tony Stark. You didn’t have much of a knack for STEM, decent at it but only when you put in the extra work to the point of stress. But you had a knack for music.

Your dad noticed your gravitation towards music when you were a toddler and when you didn’t enjoy being in the lab as much as he thought you would have been, as a Stark. But you enjoyed music so he signed you up for piano classes. Then you wanted to learn more instruments and made your way through the wind instruments and then more percussion instruments. From flute to clarinet to alto saxophone, from trumpet to french horn, to, of course, piano and the drumset. You had a lot of range. The clarinet being your favorite instrument to play.

You narrowed your eyes at MJ, “But then you wouldn’t have been brass captain. And do you think I can leave the woodwinds to be left in charge by these losers?” You pointed to Peter and Ned.

“Hey!” They both protested.

“Guys! Roll call is soon and they’re introducing all the leaders to the entire band,” Adam said, holding the metronome in his hand.

“Yeah, got it,” You and Michelle said, both with a slight authoritative tone in your guys’ voice. You both exchanged glances with a raised brow.

“Wow, the captain in you guys is really coming out,” Peter teased. You both rolled your eyes. You went to go walk beside Michelle. On the way into the bandroom.

“Oh man, I just hope I don’t accidentally make a freshman pee their pants this year.” You walked straight into the bandroom and Peter laughed, remembering that clearly last year when you were section leader.

“I just don’t want to do running block,” Ned complained, trudging behind you. “I hate band camp.”

“Ditto,” MJ remarked. Peter shot her a look.

“Shouldn’t you be hyping it up, for the freshmen?”

MJ shrugged, “Yeah, but I can complain to you guys.”

“Fair enough.”

***

“Sound off guys!” You shouted as the band did reps across the field in across-the-floors. In a moment, the voices of the members got louder, counting in time with the met. You looked around yourself, making sure there were no members dicking around too much. With it being so far into the marching season already, you didn’t want any of them to dick around so much where they’d regret it if your guys’ band didn’t perform to the best of your ability at your last competitions.

Your eyes met Peter’s as he prepped to step off on the other side. He stuck his tongue out then faced forward with his clarinet in hand. His mouth moving with his voice being just loud enough to be heard as he began to count off. He was the backline with three other freshmen near him who didn’t count at all. All three of them clarinets as well.

You called out their names, telling them to sound off until one of the visual instructors cut the metronome. Peter continued, trying to keep time without it loud enough for the freshmen to stay with him.

“Alright, stop!” The instructor, Alicia, shouted. Peter stopped, relaxing his arms and putting his clarinet in his hand with standby. The entire band stared at him in silence, waiting for what he had to say. “We have three more competitions to go. One more football game. And then we have Grand Nationals. We’ve been doing this since June. It’s October! I’m doing all I can to push you guys, it doesn’t matter if you’re a freshman anymore. You’ve been in this program so you know what we expect. In the end, it’s up to all of you guys how bad you want it. Do you guys want to make finals?”

A chorus of yeah’s came from the students. Something caught your eye as the instructor continued to talk. Flash was dicking around, mocking the instructor and when the instructor was quiet you called him out.

“Hey Flash, why don’t you run a lap?” You asked. Lucky you, he was an alto saxophone, so completely in your control.

“Wh-What? Why? I didn’t do anything,” Flash argued. You raised a brow.

“Oh really? So you weren’t even listening to Alicia as she was talking?” You retorted. “You said you weren’t doing anything right? I guess that’s still a lap.” Someone next to him nudged him, telling him not to argue and he groaned.

He walked off to the side, setting his instrument down.

“Next time, don’t mock her when she’s trying to help us. Especially since you’re the only senior who doesn’t sound off.” Flash glared at you while you kept a smirk on your face.

He murmured, “Fucking Stark.” Then went off into the run. That’ll earn him a talk after practice.

“Thanks, (Y/n),” Alicia said, shooting you a smile. You gave her a nod

Percussion and color guard began walking into the stadium and prepped to practice with the rest of the band.

“Alright, I’ll cut this rep short, go grab a gush and wait for instructions,” Alicia ordered. The teenagers began to run off the field and towards their water jugs were with their own section.

“I don’t get why Flash is even more annoying,” Peter muttered. You and Peter watched Flash continue to run around the track as you drank water from your jug.

“It’s probably because he didn’t get any leadership position,” Cindy suggested. She stood next to you two, also a clarinet section leader.

“Yeah, well, Ned deserved the alto sax position,” you said. “Not Flash, he’s an asshole.” The other two nodded their heads.

A high pitched whining noise came from the box and everyone flinched and groaned, staring up at it.

“Oh, sorry guys,” the band director, Mrs. Ha, said. “Hornline captains, lead the warm up for your section. Mr. C and I won’t have enough time this practice.”

You turned to face your section, calling out to them and raising your instrument in the air. You led them to wear the respective drum major that conducted for the woodwinds for warm up stood on her podium. Everyone was wetting their reeds in their mouth, save for the flute players who stood in arc warming up their instrument. The reed players began placing their reeds on their mouth pieces, then also warming it up a bit. You walked around, talking to a few of the leaders here and there. Then walking up to one of the seniors in the clarinet section and making them center while also handing them a tuner for later.

With a wave of your hand and your fist closing, everyone stopped playing.

“Stand-by,” you called out. Each member stopped fidgeting and their ears looked to you attentively. “Set!”

In a ripple effect from the edge of the arc to the center, everyone brought their horns up. You smirked. “Nice job guys, we’ve come a long way since freshman band camp. Same warm up, make sure to watch the hands.” You pointed up to the drum major, Kay, who stood on top of the podium.

“Stand-by,” she called out once more. “Doing the woodwind warm up and make sure to watch my hands. Set!”

The rest of practice went by smoothly. The drum majors standing on the podium, instructors up in the box telling instructions through a mic for the head drum major to repeat. The entire band doing what was told. Parents sat in the stands watching their kids practice.

You could have sworn you saw your dad and a few others in the stands that practice. But you paid it no mind, he’d usually come to competitions but he had never gone to a practice.

So when practice was over and the band was dismissed, you, Peter, Ned, and MJ began to set back to the bandroom after all the underclassmen cleared out from the stadium. And after you gave Flash another stern talking about attitude and disrespecting instructors and leaders. Which led to him running a lap and then doing push-ups.

You and MJ were pushing the huge water jugs back as well, all of your stuff riding on the bottom of the cart with MJ’s. All four of you were joking around when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey kid!”

You jolted, turning around to see your dad standing there with Morgan on his shoulders. Rhodey, Pepper, Steve, and Natasha stood next to him, all of them with a smile on their face.

“Dad!” You called out, letting go of the cart and running up to him. Tony quickly set Morgan down and you hugged him. He let out an ‘oof’ on impact but hugged you back. “You’ve never came to practice before!”

“Well, I thought I should,” Tony said, kissing the top of your head. “You stink.” You tore away from him, laughing when you noticed his scrunched up face.

“Yeah, my hat’s kinda gross from practice.”

You turned to face Morgan and picked her up, setting her on your hip. You looked at the others, “Why are you guys here.”

“Got bored,” Rhodey answered. “Then thought, we might as well see what the musical Stark was up to.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“You’re so cool, (Y/n)!” Morgan hugged you around your neck. “But scary. Just like mommy!” Your dad and you chortled with laughter and Pepper shook her head, grabbing her out of your arms.

“Yeah, you yelled at that kid for a good ten minutes,” Nat said. “Good job.”

“I’m surprised,” Steve spoke up. “I didn’t realize marching band was modeled after the military bands until Rhodey told me.”

“Yeah, you never came to one of my shows,” you playfully glared at him. But you began laughing and hit him lightly. “I’m kidding, you guys are always busy. But-” you looked at them, hopeful “-my last football game is this Friday. Then three more local competitions until Grand Nats in Indiana.”

The adults exchanged glances with each other.

“Well, you know Pep and I will be at Grand Nats,” Tony said, ruffling your hair.

“And me!” Morgan added.

“And Morgan,” Tony laughed.

“We’ll… Try.” Steve scratched the back of his head. “Sorry, (Y/n).”

“It’s cool,” you replied nonchalantly. “You guys are Avengers, other priorities.”

“Not to interrupt, but your friend looks like she’s struggling with the jugs.” Rhodey pointed behind you, and you saw MJ trying to push the jugs over a whole in the ground. Peter and Ned stood there, laughing at her. Your eyes widened and you bolted over to her after passing Morgan to your dad.

“Oh shit, sorry!”

***

The band sat in the stands, playing pep tunes whenever they were supposed to while the football game went on. You, of course, were dicking around with Peter and Ned. Ned sat behind you with his section and you sat beside Peter on the edge. MJ was far off in brassland, reading a book since she hated her section. She really hated trumpets.

Then the drum majors motioned to the saxes that they could do their thing and Ned stood up, ushering his section to stand up as well. You smiled, as this was one of your favorite traditions during football games.

Ned played the first note, and everyone following after. The tune of ‘Beautiful Girl’/’Stand By Me’ leaving the horns. There were a few pitch problems, but it’s not like it was a competition. Football games were always one to just relax, have fun, and do dumb shit.

Mrs. Ha even watched with a smile on her face.

“How do you think MJ’s faring?” You asked Peter. He looked back.

“Still reading her book,” he replied. “Dude, this is the last time we’re ever gonna hear Stand By me.”

You shoved Peter, “Bruh, don’t talk about it! I’m gonna cry.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he said. “This is the last time we wear our uniform for a football game.”

“Peter!”

Peter laughed, raising his arms up in the air to block you from trying to smack him.

“Man, I’ll just do Drum Corps or whatever after this,” you muttered after giving up on hitting Peter.

“You could, that’d be badass,” Peter said. “Maybe do like percussion like tenor drums or something.”

You nodded your head, “I totally should. I’m gonna miss band a lot.”

“Me too,” Peter sighed. “But at least we can focus more on our other extracurriculars.”

You raised a brow at him. “You mean your internship?” Peter nodded his head. “You should’ve just quit band man.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, but band is fun and you’re still in it with your internship. Though, I think MJ would have found out a lot sooner if I did though.” You laughed, remembering how MJ was only slightly thrown off on Peter possibly being Spider-Man because of how he was able to be in band and a superhero. Though the same applied to you

“Okay, sure, but I don’t do missions on season, and I fight crime a little less,” you retorted. He laughed again at you, eyes filled with amazement. You were cheering at the football team, not that you knew what was going on. Just, everyone else was cheering plus it was fun.

Peter was always amazed at how smoothly you fit into the leader role, something that would put you at an advantage if you ever led the Avengers in the near future. It definitely helped when you led groups in missions or when none of the older adults were around in times of crises. Then whenever a freshman was upset or a band member got injured on the field, you always somehow ended up right next to them. Even tripping while running across the field but falling into a roll then jumping back up, then carrying said injured member off the field to make sure they were okay.

He laughed to himself, remembering each moment he shared with you and all the other band members. He’s going to miss it a lot, but he knew you’d miss it even more.

***

The sounds of cheering, the rush of adrenaline, the musical notes and perfect harmonies accompanying the melody reverberated throughout the stadium. Then when the last note came out of your horn and everyone snapped their horns down, panting and sweat glimmering on everyone’s forehead, you smiled. You started almost laughing with tears coming down your face.

You enjoyed jumping off buildings to feel the adrenaline and going through the city but that could never compare to performing. Especially considering all the hard work you, and the entire band, put in for this particular moment. Your smile widened even more when you saw both of the senior drum majors on the podium in front of you also smiling, panting, but tears in their eyes.

Then the bass drum hit and in time with the beat, the members marched off the field or went to their respective prop to push it off the field. You were part of the latter, meeting up with Peter at the same prop.

He flashed you a smile, “Don’t cry yet (Y/n), we gotta wait before the senior traditions.” Then you only started crying more when you realized you wouldn’t be on the receiving end anymore. You would be the senior participating in said traditions. You wiped the tears off with your gloves.

“Shut up, Peter,” you laughed. “I can’t help it, we made it into finals. That was our final performance.”

“Was it your best performance?” Peter asked. You just started bawling more, nodding your head. At this point you weren’t even pushing the prop, but you knew Peter didn’t even need help, being Spider-Man and all. “Then that’s all that matters.”

When the entire band made it out in the -5 degree cold air, putting their instruments away and giving the props to the band dads to put away, you finally stopped crying. Mostly because tears in this weather was always an ass with how cold it is, especially considering the uniform doesn’t give you any warmth. Before your band director could round everyone up to talk about how it was the best performance your band had ever performed this year, that it didn’t matter what place you got, you felt a small body wrap around your legs.

“(Y/n)!!”

“Mo! What are you doing?” You asked, picking her up into your arms. She was bundled in warm clothing and you saw your dad and Pepper. Then even in the distance, you saw the Avengers which made you beam.

“That was great,” your dad said, kissing the top of your head.

“Wait! No PDA in uniform.” you took a small step back. He rolled his eyes. “Kidding, I don’t care anymore. Thanks dad.” He ruffled your hair the moment you gave your shako (hat) for Morgan to hold.

“Yeah, honey, even your solo was amazing,” Pepper said, fixing your hair then kissing the top of your head.

“It was…” Morgan paused, her face scrunching as she went deep in thought. “An outstanding performance!” Morgan cheered, hugging you tightly. You, Tony, and Pepper exchanged glances.

With a raised brow, you asked, “Where’d she learn those words?”

“No clue.” Tony shrugged. Then he grabbed his dad-bag and pulled out a few cards and even small gifts. “By the way, this is from everyone. They’ll come stop by to say hi but after they have a mission to get to.”

A small smile made its way on your face and you even started crying again. Tony wrapped an arm around your shoulder, rubbing your arm up and down. Morgan held onto you even tighter and Pepper placed a comforting hand on your hand.

“Thank you for coming, I’m gonna miss this so much,” you sniffled. Looking around you at your bandmates and all the joyful tears being shed, the hugs, the laughter. None of them were even staring at your dad in this moment because of the last performance. Which says a lot. Well, save for a few but it didn’t matter.

“I know,” your dad said softly. “But you got to experience it and I am so proud of you, (Y/n). Section leader and then woodwind captain? Amazing. I can barely play piano for the life of me.”

You chuckled, “I can’t code for the life of me.”

“But one thing’s for certain,” Pepper said. “Starks are always a natural for their passions.”

Your band director called for everyone to gather around to give them one last after-performance talk for the end of the season. You stood next to MJ, Peter, and Ned. Some of you with tears in your eyes, but all of you with a sense of satisfaction coursing through you. Four years of band was difficult, but you all made due with each other.

You glanced back, towards your family and the other Avengers and you were so happy to know that there on the field, you knew they were all watching. They all supported you through your musical career and would never stop.

Then the drum majors dismissed all of you and you turned to try to talk to your family once more, even making eye contact with Steve until all the freshmen and other underclassmen bombarded you with hugs and being all teary eyed.

“Hey, don’t worry about it guys,” you mentioned, looking at Peter, Ned, and MJ, trying to get them to help you out, “I’ll be doing drumline this year, I’ll still hang ‘round the bandroom.”

Tony chuckled, watching you talk to the younger teenagers and hugging each of them. He was proud of you, no doubt about it.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x neutral!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x stark!reader #platonic!reader #a.writes

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ryik-the-writer · 4 years

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Note: I started this fic way back in 2016, and had this Thanksgiving-themed chapter planned in advance.

Over four years and several bouts of depression-induced writers blocks later, I’m glad to finally get it out.

I present to you: Marinara Main - Burnt Bits I . Feat. Rumbelle and a big dash of baby! swanfire.

A03

Mr. Gold pulled into Belle’s next stop, smiling at her apologetic grin as she jumped out and grabbed two pizzas from the back and bounded up the stairs to her customer’s home.

It had been two months since Belle’s French Bread’s business car had burst into flames, setting off a chain of events that involved him lending his assistance, or just his vehicle really, on her deliveries and them dating on the side. It was where they could be together without the mocking or overbearing look from the town. It was theirs, and even if Belle was delivering pizzas and Gold was just watching from the window, they were together and having the seats smell like melted cheese was worth every second.

“How’d it go?” he inquired when she jumped back in the front seat.

She leaned in and kiss his 5 o’clock shadowed cheek. “$6 tip.”

“Hmm. I should have glared at him a little more, make him drop a full $10.”

Belle gave him an unamused look. “I asked you not to scare my customers.”

“Just making sure they’re not gouging you, dear.”

Belle sighed. She knew her sweetheart meant well, but she valued her independence. She swallowed her pride when he offered her his car for the sake of her family’s business, and held her head tall when she moved into his spare room after her accident, but drew the line with him bullying her customers into paying her sums she wasn’t offered.

It was there last delivery of the night so Belle decided to drop the disagreement for now. She had other things to worry about anyway.

“Didn’t you say Bae had an old bike gathering dust in your garage?”

“I’ve began using it as a garden decoration it’s been sitting around for so long. Why?”

“How much would you want for it?” she hated equating money into their conversations. It was gross reminder of their status difference, something he swore up and down he kept forgetting about but haunted her.

Mr. Gold slowed to a stop at the stop light. “Belle, I apologize for earlier. I was just being facetious, I swear.”

Belle paused. “Thank you for that, but what does that have to do with the bike?”

“You don’t want me to drive you around anymore.”

Belle cringed at the accusation. “That’s not it at all!”

He sagged in his seat with relief and Belle couldn’t help but laugh, relaxing when he joined her. They really needed to work on not jumping to conclusions.

“What do you need a bike for then?” He inquired.

“I don’t want you working on Thanksgiving.” She answered.

Gold looked at her. “Your father is making you work on the holiday? Is he mad?”

Belle rolled her eyes. She wondered sometimes if her father really was.

“No, just blinded by dollar signs. I read him something about how in China people have fried chicken instead of turkey and now he’s convinced that if we’re open people will forgo the turkey and order a pizza.”

“Logical.” Gold deadpanned, speeding up at the green light. “As for the bike, never you mind. You can borrow my car.”

“Won’t you and Bae be going away for the holiday?”

Mr. stared at the road ahead. “It’s always been just the two of us. Not much to celebrate really.”

Belle felt her heart sink, knowing that story all too well. After her mom died, Belle had her father spent many holidays in their quiet home with TV dinners in their laps and a game blaring. After he opened the business, holidays got livelier but there was still this sickening loneliness that bounced around in her gut.

“Well, I’ll just have to convince my dad to close shop early.”

Gold blinked from his gaze and turned to her. “Why’s that?”

“Because I’m going to need his help turkey shopping if we’re having you and Bae over.”

Gold startled back the horn, his hands flinching around a he tried to grasp the proposition.

“I…no Belle really. We couldn’t impose.”

“You’d be doing me a favor actually. I haven’t had a proper Thanksgiving meal in years.”

Gold pulled into the parking lot of French Bread. He wanted to say know, wanted to save her the burden of having him invade her home on a day that was restricted for family. However, he couldn’t resist the hopeful gleam in her eyes.

He sighed and nodded. Belle squealed and nearly jumped into his seat, kissing him roughly on the cheek.

“This is going to be great! I got to go make out a menu! I’ll call you tomorrow!”

He said nothing as she charged from his car to her business. He waited until the light came on before he made his way quietly home.

After checking on Bae’s homework situation, he stepped into his office and discretely pulled out the antique ring he had planned to offer Belle.

He wanted to be excited, and in a way, he was. His son would be able to have more festive holiday and he’d be able to spend more time with Belle, and hopefully find the right time to ask her the big question.

But crowds were not his forte, and he still wasn’t sure how her “boys” felt about him, let alone her father. He did not want to face another kidnapping escapde like he did on “poker night.”

Sighing, he left the ring alone for now, making a mental note to stop by the liquor store on his way to Belle’s tomorrow for two bottles of wine: one for tonight and another for the holiday.

-,-,-,-,-

Belle double-checked her table setting as fidgeted around the small kitchen of her and her father’s apartment.

Five plates were set: her and her father’s, Mr. Gold’ and Bae’s, and a guest her father had invited that may or may not show up.

Jefferson and Grace were heading to Jefferson’s in-laws, whom they both hated but had to visit at least once a year to avoid a nasty custody battle (which often lead to a week of pre-panic attacks from Jefferson; thank God they put that cot in the backroom).

Merlin was heading to dinner near Boston for a football game, and then to a children’s hospital, and Will was meeting Anastasia’s parents for the first time and asked only for prayers.

Belle checked the clock; it was just past 12:30 and “dinner” started at 2:30. She never quite understood this tradition of eating so early, but decided not to argue when she had five stomachs to worry about.

Belle hummed as she thought about her father. He had left early in the morning to pick up their “mystery guest”.

Thank Gods.

Moe French had started their pizzeria on a whim all those years ago, and really had no legit culinary skills. If it weren’t for her and Merlin jumping in and secretly taking over, French Bread’s would have literally burned to the ground. All his recipes had to be seriously revamped, but thankfully Moe was out half the time, handling the books or the equipment or something else that kept him far away from the food.

Just as Belle was checking the turkey’s temperature, a knock thundered through her father’s tiny apartment. Belle panicked a bit. Whoever was at the door was extremely early, and the she had no idea how she would entertain them for two hours while she tried to finish the meal.

She threw her oven mitts on the table and rushed to answered the door before anything burned, blinking at who was there.

“Hey,” Jefferson smiled shyly.

“Hi Jeff,” Belle greeted, stepping aside to allow them entry. “What can I…”

She glanced around him and noticed Grace wasn’t with him, which wasn’t a surprise, but he was supposed to be with her.

Belle asked bit urgently. It was no secret that Jefferson had major issues with his late-girlfriend’s family. They never thought he was good enough for her, and all but disowned her when she fell pregnant. Following her death when Grace was just over a year old, they suddenly wanted sole custody. Pinning down a job at French Bread’s had been the first step to securing Grace’s future, and Belle had been so patience with his back-and-forth court dates while he sorted himself out.

She only hoped something wasn’t stopping him from attending his mandatory dinner.

“What’s going on?”

“They um…” Jefferson shrugged. “I…decided not to go.”

Belle eyed him carefully, seeing the bags under his eyes.

“Ah,” Belle said with an affirmative nod, knowing now that she couldn’t turn him away, holiday or not. Her and the rest of the French Bread’s crew were all he really had.

She stepped aside. “You’re on dishes duty.”

“Deal!” Jefferson gasped, pulling her close and giving her a smack on the cheek so loud it made Belle’s ears ring.

“Down boy!” Belle hissed, giving him a playful smack. “You stir the beans while I move the table around.”

Belle had just placed two more plates down when someone knocked on the door yet again.

She answered it with a huff, and was a bit surprised to see Merlin enter, a brown bag in his hand.

“Hi,” she greeted a bit uneasily. Merlin had left after closing yesterday to make his trip, and wasn’t due back until Sunday. By the look on his face, he hadn’t stopped to rest.

She ushered him to the kitchen where Jefferson pulled out a chair for him to sit.

“What is it?” she asked earnestly, unnerved to see her strong-minded friend in such a state.

“Nimue was at my hotel,”

Belle and Jefferson both paled. Belle didn’t know all the details about Merlin’s borderline insane ex-girlfriend, but did know that he came to Storybrooke to get away from her.

“How did she know you were there?”

“I have no idea,” Merlin sighed, exhausted. “I saw her before she saw me, and I got out of there as fast as possible,”

Belle nodded, sharing a look with Jefferson.

“How about you stay for dinner,” Belle insisted. “We’ll walk you home tonight.”

Merlin began to stand, muttering something about not wanting to impose, and Belle had to stand on her toes to weigh him down.

“You’re imposing as much as Jefferson over here is,” Belle joked. “Help me figure out this new table arrangement.”

As her friends helped her in the kitchen, Belle glanced down at her phone. Nothing from Gold or Bae yet.

Belle frowned, wondering what was keeping her kind-of boyfriend and his son, and more importantly if she was going to be able to fit them in her tiny apartment now that there were so many extra people.

Just as she about to pull out the chair she had in her bedroom, the doorbell sounded once more.

“I’ll get it,” Merlin volunteered. Like Belle, he hoped it was the Gold’s.

The resounded “oh” he released afterwards gave Belle the answer she needed.

“Hello darlings!” came a high accented voice.

Everyone turned as a tall blonde woman head to toe in scarlet entered Belle’s tiny living room, wearing sunglasses that left only the tip of her nose exposed.

She gasped and inspected Belle’s home like a tourist who has stepped foot onto Time Square for the first time, even looking at her and her guests like they were performers.

Merlin and Belle exchanged curious looks, and just as she was about to ask who the tell was in her home, Will came bounding through the house, throwing a series of suitcases into her entryway.

He collapsed against the door, looking up with her a nervous smile.

“Hey…”

“Hi,” Belle greeted, eyeing the blond as she examined her father’s dusty shelf of knickknacks. “What’s uh…what’s going on, Will?”

Just as she said that the woman turned around, approaching Belle with a wide smile.

“Darling, thank you so much for having us,” she said as she kissed Belle’s cheek.

Belle stared at her wide-eyed, shooting another at Will.

“You remember, Belle,” Will said with a strained smile. “You said you wanted Ana and I here for Thanksgiving and you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Belle’s eye twitched. “Of course…” she said, her mind going into overdrive as she struggled to think how she was going to fit nine damn people at two-person table.

She snuck a calming breath. This is what holidays were about, and there was no way in Hell she was turning Will, a man she saw as a brother, out the door.

Besides, she and the other men of French Bread’s were wondering about this mystery girl Will would take weekends off to see, would take extra shifts for so that he could make a few extra bucks. The four of them had everything on the table when it came to each other, all their past and present secrets.

Or so Belle thought.

Still, she smiled whole-heartedly. “It’s great to meet you, Ana,”

Ana offered a wide, glass-like smile. “Thank you, your home is so,” she glanced around. “…simple!”

All the goodwill Belle was ready to extend crumbled around her, and it was then all the little details Belle had noticed about her had gathered together.

High quality clothes and accessories, gawking at simple, working people.

She was a rich bitch. Like Regina, like countless other people who turned her nose up at people like them.

Belle glanced at Will. Did he know? Did he care?

His gaze was pitiful, begging her not to say anything.

He did know then. Belle felt a bite of betrayal on her heart. Why would he deliberately associate with someone like her, someone who would only hurt him.

A calming hand met her shoulder, and Belle met Merlin’s warning glare.

“Ana,” he greeted. “Please make yourself at home. Belle, Will and I are going to work on the seating situation.”

Ana nodded, a pleased gasp escaping her lips when she studied her father’s tacky decorations.

Merlin steered Belle and Will into the kitchen where he and Jefferson had watched the exchange.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Will,” Belle sighed exhaustedly.

“It was really last-minute, I’m sorry,” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,”

Will’s gaze melted into a glare. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“Okay,” Merlin said, moving between them. “How about we try to get through dinner before we start class warfare, okay?”

Belle and Will glared at each other, but it was Belle’s whose gaze lowered first.

“You’re right,” Belle agreed. “We have to figure out this seat issue before we all end up in the park.”

Will met her smile. They’d work it out, but now they had to make an already stressful day suitable for everyone, including his unexpected guest.

“What if we ate on the floor, Chinese-style?” Jefferson suggested.

They all chuckled, the sour mood broken some.

“That might be our only option, hands in everyone,”

Four hands piled on each other as a plan came into place. They were putting on Thanksgiving dinner even if a wall had to be torn down.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Meanwhile…

“Stop moving!” Emma gnashed Baelfire as she glared at his puffy finger under the high-powered magnified glass in his father’s study, the glistening stone of Belle’s hopefully-soon-to-be engagement ring glistening.

“Sorry,” Bae sniffed, and Emma sighed.

“Hold it together, Bae,” Emma warned gently, reaching out to pat his son’s shoulder. “This isn’t…well actually this is your fault.”

“It’s as much as my fault as it is yours,” Bae barked. It had been a joke, when he tried on the ring he found on his father’s desk. He’d brought it to Emma and the two gushed and joked at the engagement that was to come, ready to giddily tease Bae’s father when he came out of the shower, and get the details about the obvious proposal on the way. But when Bae had slipped it on—just as a joke mind you— he knew instantly there was a problem. It was too tight, and his finger began turning pink from the strain.

Now they were struggling to get the thing off, half dressed in their holiday best for Thanksgiving dinner.

Emma released an aggravated sigh. “We’re going to have to go to the hospital.”

“But we’ll lose the ring!”

“I think your dad would rather lose the ring than your finger!” Emma argued.

Bae pondered quickly. This would ruin everything.

The ring had belonged to his dad’s Aunt Genevieve, one half of the spinster aunts that raised him. They died long before Bae was even born, but with all the stories he told of them, of how much they loved each other during a time where the law and world wouldn’t see them as one, he already knew them.

The ring was one of love, one that his father had held onto and hadn’t even given to Bae’s mother (she was more of a diamond person). But Belle would appreciated the story behind it, and she would wear it with pride.

No!

Bae jumped up and began desperately searching for anything that could be used to slide off the ring.

“Let’s go get some dish soap,” Bae began to suggest when the sound of his father leaving the bathroom echoed from the hall.

“Well, we’re screwed,” Emma shrugged.

“Not yet,” Bae denied, mind reeling with thought. If his dad caught them, they’d be at the hospital with a saw before they knew what hit them!

“Check the desks,” Bae suggested in a hoarse whispered. “Maybe he has ink or oil from his antiques or something!”

Emma gasped. “We have baby oil at my place! We can sneak it out before my parents catch on!”

“Yes!” Bae hissed, heading to the door.

“Bae, where are you?” Gold called close by, causing Emma and Bae to shrink back.

Emma glanced around and made a b-line to the window. She opened it and made a quick survey of the distance and began stepping out.

“What are you doing!” Bae hissed, panicked.

“What does it look like?” Emma hissed back. “We should be find if we jump from here.”

“Jump! Off the roof?” Bae squeaked.

Emma glared up at him from her place near the gutters. “You want to risk it or you want to wait for your dad to find us and kill you for sure.”

Bae glanced back to the door where he could hear his father moving about. With a groan, he stepped out of the window, gripping the tiles for dear life as Emma led them to the draining pipe.

“Hold on tight and slowly slide down,” Emma instructed, easing onto the pipe.

“How do you know about this?” Bae whined as he watched her slide down like a firefighter on a pole.

Emma gave him a look when she hit the ground, placing her hands on her hips and waiting for him expectedly.

Gulping, Bae took hold of the pipe, trying to steady his breathing as he tried to gain a hold. He tried to up it with his shoes, but slipped instantly, having to grab the gutter to keep from falling.

“Shit, shit!” Emma gasped as Bae hung from the gutter. “Just…don’t think about the ground!”

“Thanks for the adv—”

The gutter snapped, and Bae managed to hold onto the bending metal until it started snapping off the foundation and Bad landed head-first into a neatly trimmed shrub.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Emma panicked, grabbing hold of Bae’s leg. “Please be alive, please be alive…”

Bae groaned and slowly sat up, his face scratched and eyes unfocused.

“Anything feel broken?” Emma asked as she carefully picked leaves and twigs out of his curls.

“My brain’s still shaking, hang on,” Bae groaned.

“Bae?” Gold’s voice echoed from the office above.

“Break’s over!” Emma hissed, grabbing Bae and dragged him through the back garden and down the street.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Mary Margaret Nolan was –understandably – quite surprised when she answered the door and found the young Baelfire Gold and her daughter standing on her steps.

“Hi Mrs. Nolan,” Bae greeted with just the lightest air of nervousness.

“Hi, Bae,” Mary Margaret greeted uncertainly. “I…wasn’t expecting you. Emma, it’s nearly dinner time. Your grandparents are here…”

“He won’t be here long,” Emma cut in, grabbing Bae’s arm and drug him up the stairs.

“Hold it,” Mary Margaret called after them. “You know the rules, Emma…”

“We’re not going to my room!” Emma called back, rolling her eyes. She never understood why her parent’s suddenly put the “no boys in bedroom” rule in place earlier that year. Bae’s dad let them be by their selves at their place, especially on their video game-movie-pizza nights in the basement.

Oh well.

Keeping a glance over her shoulder, she led Bae to baby Neal’s room, watching every step to avoid making even the slightest noise.

“Maybe I should do it,” Bae suggested when they stood outside his room.

“No,” Emma resisted, slowly turning the knob. “If he sees you, he might freak out. Just be quiet.”

Bae rolled his eyes but stayed outside the room, waiting impatiently as Emma tip-toed into her baby brother’s room to grab the baby oil.

His father was bound to start calling him or the Nolan’s soon. They needed to get the ring off and back to his place soon.

“Find it yet, Emma?” Bae hissed as he opened the door a crack, meeting baby Neal’s large green eyes.

Bae grinned nervously at the babe, not entirely sure how to act around children. Apparently it wasn’t the right thing because Neal burst out screaming at the site of him.

“Damn it Bae,” Emma cursed, grabbing his arm and pulling him from Neal’s room as Mrs. Nolan called up the stairs.

Emma dragged him into the bathroom just as Mary Margaret sped up the steps to comfort Neal, leaving the two teens holding their breaths and listening to every step she took.

Emma snatched Bae’s hand to hold over the sink, dousing it with baby oil and trying desperately to yank the ring off.

“You’re pulling my whole damn finger!” Bae cursed, yanking away hard and hitting the door.

Emma dropped the baby oil, the plastic echoing through the small bathroom sounding like a bomb.

“Emma?” Mary Margaret’s voice rang, knocking on the door a second later.

Emma quickly locked it, flinching when her mother gasped and began wriggling the knob.

“Emma Ruth Nolan what is going on in there!”

Bae muttered a word that his father would have grounded him a month for while Emma began pushing open the tiny bathroom window.

“We’ve got to risk it,” she gasped, her blond locks flying wildly as she judged their distance.

“Oh…no!” Bae shook his head, stepping back. “I am not going through another window!”

Mary Margaret continued to pound on the door, shaking the knob profusely.

“That’s it young lady…David!”

Emma and Bae stiffened. David Nolan was a great man, but as a father he was more terrifying than a rabid bat in a Halloween haunted house when it came to his children’s well-being.

As they heard the Nolan patriarch’s boots shake the house, Emma and Bae scrambled to the window, now suddenly eager to make a quick get-away.

“Me first, he wants my blood!” Bae hissed.

“No!” Emma seethed, pushing Bae away by his face. “Me first, and watch me this time so you don’t die!”

Bae reluctantly stepped back and helped Emma ease out of the small bathroom window legs-first, sweating profusely as Mrs. Nolan relayed the locked door situation to Mr. Nolan.

“Hurry it up!” he begged as Emma grabbed his collar to pull him unceremoniously through the tiny window as her father began banging on the door.

“You have a big head, Bae!” Emma snapped as they struggled to get his shoulders through the window. Hearing Mr. Nolan’s booming voice threatening to break the door (and Bae’s legs—thought that may have been his anxiety spiraling), Bae wormed his way out until he clutching the tiles of Emma’s roof.

Emma had already located the steady gutter near her room and called out to Bae to follow her lead.

“Slowly…slowly!” she instructed as Bae struggled to grasp onto the gutters with his swollen finger. “Our gutters are cheaper than yours.”

Bae growled as he slid down the tiles, the toe of his shoe sliding over the metal of the gutter.

Just as he thought he had a chance to get off this damn roof without injury, the tell-all sound of the bathroom door bursting open shocked him to the point that he lost his grip on the roof and went spiraling down.

Emma released the drain and flew down the extra five feet, hitting the ground hard.

“Bae?” she cried, helping her friend turn over.

Bae groaned, holding his head as he looked at his best friend.

“We’re having a talk about all this when this is over.”

Emma smirked and helped him up. “Let’s get to Belle’s.”

Just as the words left her mouth the two youths heard a loud bang from upstairs.

They managed to squeeze behind a hedge before Emma’s head shot out of the window, his murderous gaze burning into the ground.

“Baelfire Gold you better have one hell of an explanation for this or I’m going to shake one from you!”

Sweaty bullets ran down the young Gold’s back, his body numb even as Emma began dragging him away.

“We got to go!”

“I…I think I’m having a heart attack…”

“Move it!”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Gold searched the misty streets of Storybrooke as calmly as his racing mind would allow.

Bae had snuck out for some odd reason, and if he didn’t have the explanation of his lifetime he’d be grounded until he graduated high school!

To add to the mystery, he could have sworn he’d heard Emma in his office as well.

The pawnbroker sighed and wondered if he had to give Bae the old birds and the bees talk again. His son was a few months shy of 15, and had been more than responsible when it came to such matters since the last time they had that talk last year, especially when it came to Emma Nolan.

He trusted his son to mind himself around the Sherriff’s daughter, and had shown any romantic interest in her. Why Gold didn’t want to jump to conclusions, he was worried that those interests may be changing if they were locking themselves in rooms now.

Just as he was about to turn around, the all too familiar sound of police sirens wailed behind him, the mulit-colored lights instantly causing his head to throb.

“I don’t have time for this!” he cursed, jumping out of the car as they both pulled to a stop.

Sherriff David Nolan stepped out, looking unamused.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you never to leave a car when a cop pulls you over?”

Gold glared at his sometimes acquaintance. He and David got along like sheep and sheep dogs: they did much better a part, and there wasn’t a promise that teeth wouldn’t be used during their encounters.

“When an actual cop pulls me over, I’ll remember that,” Gold snarled.

David frowned. “Okay, enough niceties, I saw your son and my daughter jump out of my bathroom window. I want to know why and where they are now. I have angry in-laws and an even angrier wife, and I am not going back to them without my daughter.”

Gold’s eyes widened. It was worse than he thought. Something was going on with them, and he needed to get to them before they got into any more trouble.

And there was really only one person he could think of that his son would run to.

“I’m not sure, but I will find them,” Gold said, returning to his car.

“Hold it,” David said, placing a hand on the hood of Gold’s car. “You know something, so either I come with you or we can settle this at the station.

Gold gave him a bland look. They both knew David wouldn’t dare, but like Gold, he was a terrified parent and would make any threats necessary to ensure the safety of his daughter.

He motioned to the passenger door, hoping Belle wouldn’t mind an extra guest for the holiday.

“Get in.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Belle managed to hold her tongue as the blonde bombshell gawked at her cooking. It was cute in a way, honestly, her general interest, but Belle couldn’t decide if it was out of delight or judgment.

She glanced into the living room where Will and the rest of the men were rearranging furniture to accommodate for all the extra people. He looked at her as well, begging her to accept Ana.

Belle sighed. “Would you…like to help?”

Ana’s well-manicured hands shot up. “Oh no, darling. I’ve never worked in a kitchen before.”

Belle held back a snort and helped Ana position the bowl of sweet potatoes she had been mashing and showed her how to hold the masher.

“Just keep crushing them until their smooth, no lumps. Then we’re going to put them in a dish and cover it with brown sugar and marshmallows for a casserole.”

Ana’s eyes widened as she awkwardly mashed the potatoes.

“Is this…a meal…all people eat?”

Belle bristled a bit. “It’s pretty popular for this holiday, though I don’t mind eating it whenever sweet potatoes are on sale.”

Ana paused. “You eat discounted food?”

Belle gripped the counter. “Yes, some of us can’t afford lobster and steak every night.”

“What was that?”

“I said I need to check on the turkey,” Belle replied, and it was both the true and a distraction.

Belle opened the boiling oven and poked at her crisping bird. It was the first she had made that wasn’t from a bag, and she wanted it to be perfect…as perfect at her pizza making skills would allow that is.

As she was reapplying the tin foil, Ana came to look over her shoulder.

“Oh, it’s so hot!” she laughed, the sound light and chirpy.

“Maybe don’t get so closed to it,” Belle muttered, slamming the oven shut.

Ana jumped back, tensing when Belle brushed past her.

Belle returned to cutting vegetables for the dressing, Ana coming beside her to continue smashing the smooth potatoes paste.

Belle glanced to the living room at Will’s pleading glance and continued to force conversation for his sake.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Belle inquired.

“Oh,” Ana answered cheerfully. “A little of this, a little of that. Usually I’m in a plane being catered off to some event or another.”

Belle hummed, unsurprised. “Sounds nice.”

“Will tells me you own your own business,” Ana offered.

“You’re standing above it,” Belle returned, chuckling a bit. She was rather surprised to hear Ana return the sediment.

At least she had a sense of humor. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

“Of course, business would be charitable at best.”

Belle’s knife stilled, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

“I…beg your pardon?”

Ana giggled, not yet knowing the beast she was about to unleash.

“Oh, it’s a sweet little hobby, darling, but you can’t possibly find it profitable,” Ana said, sweet as overly sugared coffee.

Belle gripped the knife she was holding, struggling to hold back all the nasty instincts she had to smash the blonde in front of her.

Yet…Ana was right.

French Bread had been operating in the red for years, but they’d always been pretty well off. Moe managed to keep everyone employed however, and were overall comfortable.

Belle had never looked at her business as a hobby. She saw it as a lifeline, one that she liked at that.

She made something that people liked. She offered her business for fundraisers for the local schools, and took pizzas to families after a loss or birth.

She was a member of this community, and damn it she was a business owner, no matter what she made.

Before she could defend her very livelihood—or even throw Ana’s arse out—Baelfire and a panting Emma Nolan came bustling in, slamming the door and locking it as if they were being chased.

“Bae?” Belle gasped. “What on earth—”

“You got to help us!” Emma gasped, grabbing Bae’s hand.

“No,” he protested, squirming in her grip.

Emma dragged him to her level, glaring fiercely.

“My dad’s probably on his way here with a hatchet, and I do want to jump out of another window!”

“Wait, what?” Belle demanded.

Emma snatched Bae’s hand up, showing Belle his swollen finger.

Belle gasped. “Bae, why are you wearing this?”

Bae gulped, glancing at Emma. “I…well…you see…”

Belle shook her head and led him to the couch.

“Merlin, can you grab my first aid kit? It’s under the bathroom sink.”

Merlin nodded and set off.

“Will, I need some ice, we need to get the swelling down.”

“I’ll get it!” Ana volunteered, practically skipping to the kitchen. “Oh, ice trays, how cute!”

Belle’s eye twitched. “Will…”

Will quickly got the ice from Ana, handing it to Bae without meeting Belle’s eyes.

“Crazy day, eye lad?”

“Yeah…” Bae said, wincing as Belle examined his hand.

“What happened, and where’s your dad?” Belle inquired.

“Probably right on our asses,” Emma muttered. Jefferson chuckled.

Merlin handed Belle the kit and winced at the purple digit.

“Maybe we should get Whale down here?

“NO!” Bae and Emma shouted.

“He’ll cut it,” Bae said. “Then it’ll be ruined.”

“I think your dad would be more concerned about Whale cutting off your finger than a ring from his inventory.” Belle said.

Bae looked down guiltily at the ring unknowingly meant for his possible future step-mother.

A family heirloom and a proposal would be lost today on his account. It was almost too much to bare, especially after he nearly died trying to save them both.

It’d hurt to tell Belle, but he was going to be grounded until after new year’s anyway. Might as well attempt to save one.

“Wait, Belle,” Bae begged as she was dialing the number. “I need to tell you—”

A loud pound on the front door cut him off.

“Baelfire Gold,” came David Nolan’s booming voice.

“Shit!” Emma and Bae hissed, instantly searching for a window.

“What on earth…” Belle began as Merlin began to open the door, only to have David push it open with his weight.

His heated stare instantly fell on Bae, and then on his sweating daughter.

“What is going on with you two?” he demanded.

“Dad, I can explain!” Emma swore as Bae shot up to stand behind her.

He looked back and forth between the two teens, and then finally the ring on Bae’s finger.

“Oh hell no!” he exclaims, jumping to the most severe conclusion.

Bae and Emma followed his glare, paled, and then looked at each other.

“Whoa, no, no!” she burst.

“You two are too young to get married have you lost your mind!” he yelled.

Belle stepped in front of the teens, trying to bring peace back into her living room.

“David, don’t be ridiculous,” Belle instantly defended, ducking beside Bae. “Right?”

“No!” Bae burst, pulling away from Belle. “This whole thing is because—”

The door flew open once more and Mr. Gold burst in, panting like he just ran a marathon.

“I told you to wait for me, Nolan!” he barked. “There’s three flights of steps to get through!”

“It’s a good thing I’m here, they were about to run off together!” the deputy fought.

Gold looked at his son, eyes instantly drawn to his swollen finger and the ring suffocating it.

He paled a bit, and looked at a frazzled Belle, and then the other guests in her home who looked just as confused as she (except the blonde who looked amused —who was she?)

“Belle,” he began, gripping his cane tightly. “I can explain.”

“You explain in the station,” David said, heading to Bae. “We’re going to have a talk young man—”

Gold stepped in front of him, snarling like a wolf protecting its cub.

“Like hell you are!”

“Oh this is exciting!” Ana cheered.

“For god’s sake.” Belle groaned.

“Okay, everyone calm down,” Merlin tried to sooth as Gold and David went at each other.

“Your son is a menace!”

“Your daughter was the one who was dragging him out of windows!”

“Oh my god I want to die!”

The piercing sound of the ancient fire alarm screaming through the air.

Jefferson fist-pumped the air. “Yelling feels really good right now!”

Belle looked around at her chaos-filled living room, her heart clenching.

All she wanted was a nice dinner with her friends and family – the first real nice dinner she’d had in years at that!

Jaw clenched, blood boiling, she turned to step into the kitchen, Will and Merlin watching her carefully.

Grabbing her broom, she aimed the handle at the screaming fire detector and promptly stabbed it, the thing slowly dying with a low whine.

The room became quiet, all eyes turning to the fuming woman. Even Ana had stilled, this part of the simple life mostly unappealing.

Belle turned to turn off the stove and donned oven mitts, glaring at Merlin when he offered to assist.

She removed the scorched bird, taking a moment to mourn what could have been, before turning to her terrified onlookers.

“You,” she growled, pointing at Gold. “You said you could explain, so tell me, what the everlasting hell is happening here tonight?”

Gold gaped at her, his heart pounding. He couldn’t tell if he was utterly terrified of her or madly in love.

Well, the later was a no-brainer. That was the whole reason he had delicately cleaned his great-aunt’s ring. He wanted her in his life as long as she would have him.

He looked at his son. The boy was no doubt facing a very long probation for putting him through all this, but he very honestly looked remorseful.

Gold looked at Belle, beautiful, bright, brilliant Belle. The woman he loved. The woman who’d brought so much life into his gray world.

Belle continued to stare at him expectantly, and Gold knew he needed to act now if he didn’t want to get sent through a window.

He turned to his son, frowning, and held out his hand.

Confused, Bae reached out his ringed-hand, and gasped when his father represented his whole hand to Belle.

Gold carefully got down on his good knee, the spectators in the room alighting when the realized what was occurring.

Belle’s face as well melted, her cheeks pinking.

“Belle,” he began. “I love you so much. These last few months have been some of the best of my life and I want to have so many more, years in fact.”

Belle’s knees began to shake. She hadn’t planned for this. She wasn’t ready. They should be somewhere nicer than her dingy apartment. She should be in a nicer dress. They should…they should…

“So as soon as a I pry this ring off my son’s finger…”

Bae winced.

“Clean and resize it, I…I would very much like you to be my wife.”

Belle could only stare, all words lost. Is this what true, unabridged happiness felt like?

“Well?” Jefferson urged, causing Will and Merlin to shush him harshly.

David had already brought out his phone and was recording dutifully.

“For mom?” Emma chuckled.

“Oh yeah, she loves this stuff.”

Belle released a wet laugh, tears building behind her eyes.

“I…I…”

The door swung open before she could answer, her headset father clambering in and shivering.

“Sorry I’m late Be…” he looked around and the myriad of strangers in his living room.

His eyes particularly zeroed in on Gold—the man who almost ruined his business not too long ago—who had hastily released his son’s hand and was slowly rising from his knee.

“What on earth?”

“I…think the market might have one more turkey we can grab,” Merlin suggested, clutching Jefferson and Will’s shoulders. “Let’s go see.”

The two men dared not protest. Will quickly took Ana’s hand and led her from the apartment before Belle went off on them all.

“It was lovely to meet you darlings!” she said, not seeing Belle exaggerated eye roll.

David stopped his phone and poked Emma’s shoulder, motioning that they really needed to leave.

“Bye Bae,” she whispered, signaling for him to text her later as Moe and David nodded awkwardly to each other.

“Well that’s different, the former Australian citizen said.

“I swear dad, there’s a reason for all of this,” Belle gasped, feeling a bit calmer once Gold was straight by her side.

There was a sound outside, and Moe peeked out the door, saying something so soft that Belle nor Gold could pick it.

“We can talk about this later,” Moe said, chirpier than he was a moment ago. “I really need you to meet someone.”

Belle blinked, wondering if this someone was the reason her father had been so absent from his business—and her life—for the last several months.

She glanced at Gold, who was frowning sulkily. A beautiful, abet odd, proposal had been smite, he was hurting.

Belle took hold of his hand, smiling when he met his eyes.

It’s okay, she said, we can try again.

He smiled back, thankful.

Moe stepped aside to allow, to Belle’s slight surprise, a woman enter.

Like Ana, she was elegantly dressed, though didn’t stand out quite like she had.

There was almost a familiarity to her, the way her shoulders straightened and her hands clasped over her hips, like someone in charge.

However, her attention was brought back to her current boyfriend. His hand had fallen from hers, leaving her cold, and confused.

“Belle, I’d like you to meet—”

“Why Mr. Gold,” the woman greeted, carefully.

She stepped forward, and Belle suddenly felt like she was being advanced by a wolf.

“How lovely it is to see you.”

Belle shot to her boyfriend. He was pale, trembling just enough that she could feel the vibrations in the old wood of her apartment floor.

Gold couldn’t find the words he needed. Couldn’t even scream if he so chose to.

The very world around him—years of healing, of running—gone.

All because one woman had returned into his life.

“Cora.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #swanfire #belle french #mr. gold #jefferson #merlin ouat #will scarlet #baelfire #emma swan #ouat #ouat fic #marinara on main #ryik's fics #hope to have a pt 2 out for november!

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apictureisapoemwithoutwords · 4 years

Text

Be Careful That Which You Request.

“Eat the damn food!” Ӓr’kān’s growl is low, tone gravelly.

Ears and connecting fins pull back in her impatience, as he thrusts the plate with a fish across the bar top. At the hungry, stubborn moron sitting beside them.

“Bought it ‘so you’d fuckin’ eat an’ quit gawkin’ at my supper.”

Ӓr’kān speaks, before going on to chow down on their own Giant Redlina, about almost done. As she observes Śhadō who is quiet again.

This time peering at the extra plate. Like the dead aquatic, grew two more head’s. Right before those beautiful shiny black faded dark emerald green and peach-pink eyes.

It’s taken Ӓr’kān a moment to figure out the differences in their species’ ways of expressing things. More so than it was even close to hard trying to understand the Lepíspterón language, with no working translation between their species.

Again, just another of the million reasons to love being an Aquatic, Ӓkˈtäˈpəd. It took their species little to learn unfamiliar languages, and almost all of them were pronounceable through their speech.

The Lepíspterón Tribe, Pectō Victima, or at least this single-member named Śhadō wasn’t doing half bad himself. He still stumbled on Ӓkˈtäˈpə words that had no equivalent translation in his dialect or any dialect or primary language known to their species; as far as either was aware of...

Śhadō’s antennae pulled up in alert, then drew backwards towards their false feather scale pony. Before he pulled them closer to his head, in mock anger; antennae almost now hidden in the feathers.

The period of silence broke between them as he spoke up in his native dialect. “Śhadō will take no such-”

… Making it even more fun for this Aquatic when their Insectoid attempted to mimic whatever Ӓr’kān attempted to say. And what she’d said was uncivilized. Something about the Lepíspterón or his thieving Moth subgroup or even his war made siblings and Śhadō; even as stuck up and nasty hearted as he’d described his culture as did not have in their native tongue.

“- fuck’ing actions!” and finished in Ӓkˈtäˈpə, with his upper lip stretched up over sharp, serrated black teeth; to bear his annoyance, rather than any genuine anger directed at Ӓr’kān.

Which reminded him of the species Selakē; whose Kiŋdəm had been to the right of her own. A best friend in honourment of their species they’ve not seen since forced to flee their home and all those she loved.

Looking as the Pectō Victima’s stunned silence in the wake of being thrown off by the show of affection and hospitality’s had warned off. Ӓr’kān prepared for the shit storm he will throw in its wake.

Affection had been something shocking to learn Śhadō nor any of his species held a previous history. It was just everything Ӓr’kān grew up on had been about devotion, tenderness and the respect between family and for your people. She had felt as if he had been the only one of their species to have an ugly and dark side.

Even with her Octopade parents not being as prevalent within his life. They’d always had her older Octopade sibling to love him, and then she got to love a wonderful little codling sibling. When everything Ӓr’kān had ever held, gone. It was the Ratz who had taken that job of comfort and affection. Before that dark hole devoured everything, creating this being, this them they called, Bounty Hunter Ӓr’kān.

Although, after having learned about what Lepíspterón’s siblings were like, what one had done to him and with all the stories forced fed into making Pectō Victima who he is today. On top of Śhadō's personality, engraving betrayal, from his own family. It was no wonder the chaotic, nasty, fluffy gremlin did not understand what it was like to have anybody genuinely care about them. Or to sprinkle you with pleasant things without needing that suspicion of ulterior motives connected to keep you alive.

Though, in all the time that this Ӓkˈtäˈpəd had known them. Never stopped Śhadō from being someone with an abundance of love to give. And for somebody who’d never known it existed or experienced it. The crazy bastard’s reverence and care for his insect pets were some of the deepest of ties.

Ties, Ӓr’kān has only ever seen between Ӓkˈtäˈpəd Ŕȯiəl siblings. It went beyond the willingness to die or live to protect and love them and to think this overgrown moth did it all for these tiny squishy unintelligent creatures.

It is too bad for everybody else. - Notably, those Śhadō defined as Humanoid, which was everything and anybody. Something Ӓr’kān is slowly trying to fix, as they had no idea what that species is. Outside, the fairy tales told in space of a horrible cryptic race that as far as anybody knows doesn’t even exist. - Were not worthy of that love, them being included it seemed for some universal awful reason.

So it is a splendid thing Ӓr’kān, thought, she defied all common logic and universal truths and could be just as stupidly obstinate as he ~ or just plain stupid, depends on whoever you asked. That he knew the two of them would work. If nothing else, she’d become the only friend this grumpy killer thief has ever or may ever have to trust.

Snarling back at Śhadō; which is not a normal sound for a Ӓkˈtäˈpəd, and had been something she’d picked up aboard Ratz. Ӓr’kān spoke up, “Fine, starve, I’ll eat yo’r food too,” and turned away to do just that. As he bluntly ignored the most adorable sound Ӓr’kān’s ever heard.

An offended high pitched squeaking or squeaking for any reason should be illegal. They should have the right to arrest, detain and devour Śhadō in -

Thoughts of unholiness screeched to a halt. As a large, warm, looming body shoved Ӓr’kān aside. Forcing her to grip the other side of the bar top, to keep from falling off the stool.

“HaA’A~”

Their voice pitching high, choked off mid surprise, as three cool metal digits from the thief’s prosthetic arm wrapped around their wrist, moving her hand away from Ӓr’kān’s mouth.

All eight of their eyes attempted to see what the other was doing. But Śhadō’s magnificent form blocked their view. He could only sense a heavy rhythmic heat ghosting over her hand for a split moment, before. …

The noise of flesh and tendons being torn, bone being crushed covered the atmospheric sounds of the shady Bounty bar they were in.

Alerting not only the other living things, but Ӓr’kān. Before the sickening splosh of blood pouring over-the-counter cuts off the rest of the room, daring to continue on with what they’re doing.

At first, the Aquatics whole being is in shock with the actions of Śhadō. The pain hasn’t really caught up to him, and then it does, and the scream sticks to the rear of Ӓr’kān’s throat. Along with the failure of words, at having a piece of themselves stolen, with the fish she’d been holding.

It’s not until Śhadō’s noisily devouring his meal filters in. That Ӓr’kān’s wide eyes dart up from the missing extremity to glance at their companion. Whose lightly furred black cheeks bulge with his fresh mouthful. Lips, chin and parts of the omnivorous moth’s cheeks stained in the purple essence of a Ӓkˈtäˈpəd’s bodily existence, that she snaps out of their stunned silence.

“THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” The screech of vocals a decibel close enough to shatter glass.

Śhadō jumps, large four wings spreading out slightly as their chest puffs out to make them look larger, as their eyes widen in shock, antennae now laying across their head and tucked away in their plumes in aggression. Looking close to jumping right through, Ӓrˈ’kān; who craves nothing more at this moment than beat the other into a gory pulp, before revising that plan.

She brought this upon himself challenging a being as twisted up inside like this.

Instead, they concentrate on the original issue.

Vocals low and gravely again, yet still yelled in anger. “GIVE THAT BACK!” All thoughts to why the Bounty Hunter would not wish the piece back far from their thoughts.

The six-foot beast towering over their barley 5’11 height, even standing a stool away, is back to chewing contentedly. Looking so very proud of himself at the moment. That has Ӓrˈkān rendered speechless, again. Before reeling back, repulsed. As Śhadō takes the fish and their extra webbed finger bits. Wrapped in his long tubular tongue and rolls it out to reveal to all those who are observing.

“Y’r’an animal.” The words are, however, tainted with affection rather than any anger or disgust that should rightfully be there. But . . .

Ӓrˈkān understands. Not only is this like some adorable display of pride, that knows no term of interpretation for, but it’s also a display of glory to this war created creature.

Of course, there’s no reaction to her words. As they place the meal back where it belongs and promptly swallowed; as earlier demanded of Śhadō.

It’s twisted, they know, to consider Lepíspterón’s display as a form of love. Expressing that now Ӓr’kān belongs to Śhadō, as well.

Putting information down here again, to keep above clean.

We are not even going to pretend we are going to make the prompts for Halloween, anymore. Just no time.

So, today’s pretend prompt is Fights, Food, Shady Business, Moths and Octopus. ;)

There are my IZ created OC’s for my Au’s. They both have detailed species bios. More so for my Moth child.

Meet X Prinˈses Ӓr’kānia, known now as Bounty Hunter Ӓr’kān - Of the species Ӓkˈtäˈpəd from an Aquatic planet called, Süər. Using She/Him/Them pronouns. Affiliated with The Resisty, The Resistance & The Bounty Association.

And their trusty Moth menace Śhadō, of the insectoid species Lepíspterón, born within the War Bred Tribe Pectō Victima. Off their homeworld forest, Hālünä on a rainforest planet called Tsəlaveh. Refers to self as Male. Affiliated with nobody except Bounty Hunter Ӓr’kān and Folk Healer Green Witch X-invader Kravis. Occupation Thief and Murder.

Thinking of adding a short character bio for them here, and a summary of their species.

#Invader Zim Oc #Original Character #Alien Oc #Insect Oc #Aquatic Oc #Moth Alien #Octopus Alien #Created for the IZ Universe #Invader Zim #Mi Tales #// Please Tags work. //

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