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spacedikut · 4 years ago

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“would you please put your tongue away” ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: spencer can’t handle how good you look in your dress. he also can’t handle another guy asking you to dance. 2760 words

a/n: taken from this prompt list :)

“…It’s highly inappropriate.”

Someone waves a hand in front of Spencer’s face and he’s brought back to reality – surrounded by people from every FBI department in a far too bright room with champagne that is certainly not worth the amount it costs and in a suit that is a little too tight.

“What?” He asks.

“I said,” Derek grins, “Would you please put your tongue away.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow at that, “My tongue is firmly in my mouth, Morgan.”

Derek gives a scoff. He wishes Emily was with them to attest, but she’s across the room, beside you, stuck in a conversation with some “important” person that Hotch made a point to tell the team to suck up to.

“If Y/N can’t feel your stare burning a hole in her back, when she turns and sees you drooling she’s sure to know you’re obsessed with her.”

In panic, Spencer wipes his mouth just in case he is in fact drooling. That gets a hearty laugh from Derek, and Spencer huffs indignantly, “I am not obsessed-“

“When you saw her all dressed up earlier you had to leave the room, Reid. That isn’t a platonic reaction.”

“Well,” He stutters, glancing over to you and scanning your bare back, “She looks- she-“

“She took your breath away, man. It’s okay.” Derek gives him a pat on the back and smirks at him, coughing to cover a chuckle when Spencer glares at him.

“And who is this majestic being that took Doctor Reid’s breath away?” It’s you, Prentiss and JJ trailing behind, delicately holding a champagne flute in your left hand and a business card in your right.

Spencer flounders, taken off-guard by your approach and the close-up view of you in your dress. He doesn’t know much about fashion, let alone dresses, but God do you look like something straight out of a movie. To him, you’re the embodiment of all the love poems and romantic monologues that his mother used to read him. He always wondered what the beauty all those writers saw looked like, and if he’d ever see something so celestial, and then you walked into his life.

He’ll never recover. Especially when you keep reminding him how perfect you are.

“Someone’s been networking,” Derek nods to the business card, noticing Spencer’s struggle and swooping in to save him. Derek loves to tease Spencer, it’s his favourite thing to do, but there’s always a time and a place, you know?

You fiddle with the card, “A little pretentious, but he mentioned having some paperwork trouble and I offered to help. I thought if I got in his good graces he’d help us keep the jet.”

Just then, the band at the back of the charity event plays a slow tune, everyone coupling up to head to the dancefloor. Before you or Spencer can react, Derek is dragging Emily away and JJ goes to find Will, but not before all three of them send some kind of subtle gesture to Spencer – Derek winks, Emily raises her eyebrows and looks between you and Spence, and JJ nudges him as she passes.

Spencer’s entire body locks up. He can’t do this. Whatever this is.

When he doesn’t move, you offer him your hand, “Would you care to dance, Doctor Reid?”

His body eases and he can’t help but smile because you’re you, “It would be an honour, Miss Y/N,” He laughs, gently wrapping his fingers around yours.

You tug him onto the outskirts of the floor – being in the centre is both of your worst nightmares – and Spencer’s other hand falls to the small of your back, pulling you close. You’re chest to chest, your arm falling in place around his shoulders, but even with heels on he’s still got some height on you. You sway to the music in perfect sync, like you’ve done this a million times, and your eyes subconsciously close from the comfort of being in Spencer’s arms and the feel of him against you.

You concentrate on your feet for a few beats, too shy to look him in his clear, brown eyes. When you finally look up to meet his gaze, you can’t help the soft smile that appears. He’s already looking at you.

Spencer returns it, smile equally as fond.

The lights of the room reflect in his eyes – it’s as if they’re twinkling, like stars, and it’s utterly mesmerising. For a second, you forget you’re at a fundraiser event, on business, surrounded by your team and people from all departments and all positions. You feel like you’ve been whisked away to some faraway land, maybe somewhere that isn’t filled with killers and evil, and you and Spencer are lovers simply enjoying the night and eachother’s company.

“You look beautiful,” Spencer whispers, as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear you. You wonder if he feels the same way you do.

“Thank you. I was waiting for you to compliment me.” You tease.

“Oh? Does my compliment mean that much?”

You giggle nervously. You love when he teases you back, when he has this confidence that always surprises you.

“More than I’d like to admit,” You say, “But I did also spend all day getting ready, so I want my hard work appreciated.”

“Well,” Spencer swallows, eyes flickering to your collarbones and neck and everywhere on you, “Consider your hard work appreciated. Not just by me, either. I think I’ve got a lot of glares being shot at me right now.”

You break eye contact to survey the room. There’s definitely a good number of people staring at you, but you refuse to believe they’re all jealous of him. He looks dashing in his suit, hand-picked by Rossi himself, and you know you’re not the only one to notice. You see the beauties dotted around that keep checking him out.

Another ballad begins so Spencer keeps you close. He scans the side of your face, how your nose peaks and the makeup you’re wearing illuminates all of your features. He’s hopeless at makeup, too, but the colour of your eyeshadow(?) suits you perfectly. You always look perfect, he realises. Being ethereal comes naturally to you.

“Excuse me,” A voice interrupts.

Both of you snap towards him. Travis.

Travis works in.. a department. A stupid one, probably. Spencer thinks Travis sucks.

“Hi, Trav,” You smile. You like Travis – of course you do. You’ve known him longer than you’ve known Spencer, so how does Spencer stand a chance?

“Evening, Y/N. Evening, Spencer.” He gives a polite smile.

Spencer returns it with his jaw set.

“Could I steal you for a dance, Y/N? Just like during our graduation ball?” His eyes are hopeful, and Spencer looks at in you confusion. What graduation ball?

You agree shyly, “Sure, Trav. Is that okay, Spence?”

He doesn’t know why you’re asking him – you both know Spencer’s too socially awkward to say no. So he nods, gives a tight lipped smile, and sharply turns to walk straight towards the bar. He doesn’t want to see Travis gently grasp your hand and pull you close, just like he had done.

But he’s not jealous.

“Water, please.” Spencer says to the bartender.

Someone slides up beside him. He glances at the shoes – Italian leather – and he knows it’s Rossi. He’s standing with a whiskey in his hand and a pitying gaze.

Spencer takes a big gulp from his glass of water like it’s a shot of straight vodka.

“You know he’s gonna make a move on her.” Rossi announces. Spencer takes another gulp.

“What?”

“I overheard him and his friends. They were in the academy together, and after seeing her tonight he’s decided now it’s time to make a move. Even stopped me to ask if she was single because he saw how close you two were out there.” Rossi shrugs as he takes a sip of his drink, gaze burning into Spencer as he does it.

Spencer knows what he’s doing. He’s trying to rile him up, get his feathers ruffled, for him to, what? Fight Travis on the dancefloor? Run up and steal you?

“I’m sure…” He starts, slowly, “If someone, say, Emily, who disappeared outside, had a sudden emergency… Y/N would drop Travis in a second.”

Spencer looks at him. Rossi raises his eyebrows.

“Excuse me.” Spencer says.

Rossi grins as he watches Spencer almost charge towards you.

There’s a hand on your shoulder and you know it’s Spencer, and when you turn he’s out of breath.

“Emily-“ He pants, “I think she’s- she’s sick. She’s outside and asking for you.”

“Oh, God,” You gasp, hands immediately leaving Travis completely to instinctively grasp Spencer by his arms, something you’ve always done.

Spencer’s heart warms at your concern – of course you’re so genuinely concerned for one of your best friends. Could you be anymore perfect?

“Let’s go, Spence.” You glance at Travis, feet already moving, “Sorry, Travis, it was lovely to dance with you!”

Travis watches you flutter away, knowing very well that that was his once chance and he lost it. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that Spencer is lying – at least a little.

Travis could tell Spencer wasn’t happy when he asked if he could dance with you. The unimpressed look in Spencer’s eyes whenever they made eye contact solidified that.

Travis can’t blame him, if he’s honest.

Outside, the cold is starting to set in, but you’re too panicked to notice or care. Your head darts left to right, searching for Emily. You spot her, in her stunning red dress, and go to call for her. But then she laughs, head thrown back, and takes another sip of her drink.

She’s fine.

You turn to Spencer, confused, “I thought she was sick?”

He looks sheepish and you laugh as he says, “I may have told a little lie.”

“Spencer!”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry.

“Well why-“

“Since we’re here, why don’t we go look at the fountain? I saw you eyeing it when we arrived.”

You want to ask why he interrupted you and Travis, but you’re not given the chance. Spencer’s large hand holds the tip of your fingers and he gently pulls you towards the stone fountain, where it stands with several tiers and the soothing sound of running water. There’s a statute in the centre – a woman wrapped in some kind of shawl.

“My guess,” You say, arms crossing, causing Spencer to take a sharp intake of breath, “Is the statue is based on the forlorn sculptor’s lover.”

Spencer’s body deflates as releases a deep breath. He thought you were onto him and why he ruined your dance.

“Actually,” His hands move to emphasise his point, “One of the most common purposes of sculpture is in some form of association with religion-“

“Why did you interrupt Travis and I?”

Uh oh.

“Did I look uncomfortable?” You wonder, “Because I can handle myself, Spence.”

You tried to resist asking again. But something about what he did bothers you – if you didn’t want to dance with Travis, you would’ve said no or made an excuse to not have to. If you didn’t want to be around Travis, you would’ve walked away from him. No matter what, you could’ve dealt with it yourself. Does Spencer disagree?

He licks his lips out of nervousness, shakes his head and mumbles a, “No, that’s not it.”

You turn to face him. His hands are in his pockets and he’s staring at the ground as he shuffles his feet. Rossi will have a fit when he sees the shoes he hand-picked have marks on them.

“I needed to get you alone. I’m sorry.” Spencer squirms. He can’t make eye contact.

“What?” You ask, brows furrowed, “Why? Is something wrong?”

“He was..” He trails off and clears his throat, “He was gonna ask you out. I couldn’t- didn’t want to let that happen.”

Your confusion increases. So he does think you can’t handle yourself?

There’s a spark of frustration in you, then. You’ve dealt with being underestimated and babied basically your whole life and Spencer knows that. He also knows you’re a trained FBI agent that has saved his skin more times than you care to count – he knows better than anyone that you can handle yourself.

So what the fuck.

“I appreciate the concern,”

Spencer winces at your tone. This is… not going well. Not going how Spencer wanted it to, or planned. Not that he had a plan beyond getting you and Travis as far away from one another as possible.

“But I can guarantee I do not need you to loom over me and scare boys away, Spencer. You’re not my father.”

Your tone is biting and Spencer moves closer to placate you.

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N, I’m sorry that’s- I know you can handle yourself. Very well. I still have the scar from when you thought I was a robber in your house-“

“You shouldn’t have tried to sneak up on me, Spencer Reid-“

“Rossi overheard Travis saying he was gonna make a move on you and it was like I went on auto-pilot and I could hear the blood pumping in my ears and-“

“I can take care of myself, Spence.”

“I couldn’t let it happen because I want to date you.”

He looks at you then, gaze so intense you feel frozen where you stand. He continues.

“But I’m sorry if you were planning to say yes to Travis and I… came in and ruined it. Maybe you’re into him and I just… delayed the inevitable for no reason other than to humiliate myself.” He gives a tight lipped smile, rolling onto the tips of his feet and then back on the heel.

You let out a breathy laugh in disbelief. “I wasn’t going to say yes to Travis, Spence. It’d be pretty damn rude for me to date him when I very much like and want to date you.”

His eyebrows shoot up and he gives a toothy, hesitant smile, “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” You step closer. Spencer can’t take his eyes off you, not that he’s been able to at any point tonight, but now you can tell he can’t help but ogle at you.

It makes you feel fuzzy inside, that mix of excitement and nerves that you always get around Spencer.

“Well, what should we do about that?” He teases, but some anxiety shines through. He’s genuinely asking.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” You ask.

He sputters, “Uh- yes. That would be completely okay.”

“Well then,” You smile, “Come here.”

As if you’ve done it a million times, Spencer’s hands cup your face as he tugs you towards his lips. Your hands find his waist, softly gripping him as your eyes flutter shut and you feel Spencer’s lips for the first time.

Why does it feel so natural? So right?

Spencer has to pull back a couple of seconds later because he’s smiling so wide. You can’t resist and kiss his nose, and he giggles. He giggles.

God, you’re so in love with him.

Spencer glances at the statue standing at the top of the fountain.

“You think she’s angry that we’re kissing in front of her?”

You hum in consideration, “Definitely jealous. I mean, not everyone gets to kiss the most handsome guy at the ball.”

He can’t help but blush, and although you have a teasing tone you both know you genuinely mean it.

From where you’re standing you can still slightly hear the sound of the band inside – some kind of smooth jazz is being played now, nice and slow.

You turn and offer your hand to Spencer, just like before, “Another dance, kind sir?”

Spencer gives you a cheeky smile, “As long as you promise no Travis-like interruptions this time.”

He pulls you close, definitely closer than before as your lips nearly touch and you can feel his breath, and you rub the tip of your nose against his. “No Travis, no one, just us.”

“And the voyeur statue,” He gestures with his head towards the fountain.

You both look, and your hand leaves his shoulder to flip her off.

“Back off, hag.” You joke, and Spencer laughs at your absurdity.

Then you dance, for the second time, to the music that flows out from inside. Under the moonlight, with the twinkling stars, Spencer is convinced this is the closest to Heaven on Earth. With you, in his arms, dopey grins and loving stares.

God, he’s so in love with you.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #i thought i liked this but then i left it for a day and now my opinion has DRASTICALLY CHANGED #decent idea. terrible execution

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staysaneathome · 3 years ago

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This Was Not A Dare, Reigen

Jon glares at each of the— the suspects traitors in front of him, tape recorder clutched tight in one hand.

Martin, wringing his hands uselessly, eyes wide and beseeching. Tim, fists clenched hard enough for his knuckles to go white and returning his gaze with a death stare of his own. Sasha, arms folded to form a barrier between Jon and herself, expression a perfect mask of concern. Reigen, radiating disappointment in every one of his gestures and quips. Elias, eyes weary, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Some intervention this is turning out to be.

Jon wants to scream. Wants to reach out and shake someone, anyone, until they admit he’s making sense and it’s the rest of the world that’s gone mad.

Every single one of them (except Martin) could’ve killed Gertrude. He knows he has no proof that they did, but he has no proof that they didn’t either, can’t they see that? If they don’t want him to suspect them, it should be easy for them to actually give him proof of their innocence (like Martin did), instead of just repeating platitudes of “you know this isn’t acceptable adult behavior, Jon” and “you’re better than this, Jon”.

Who cares about knowing better or acceptable behavior when it’s your very life on the line? He’s half tempted to throttle the con artist, see how dignified or adult he is when he’s the one with a murderer on his tail!

…Not that Jon is a murderer. It’s just the principle of the thing, is all.

“Jon,” Elias says, tone soothing in all the ways he doesn’t want it to be. “This is absurd. This goes far beyond an unhealthy work environment. I’ll admit it’s partly my fault for letting it get this bad, I should have intervened earlier.”

Reigen cuts in with a hand gesture that is as effusive as it is dismissive. “That doesn’t make his behavior okay, Bouchard-san. It may be bad here, but Jon chose to follow me, Tim and Sasha, and yell at Martin, rather than going to the police or paying a detective, like Herlock Sholmes or something.”

Jon sputters. “Wh- It’s Sherlock Holmes, not—and he’s fictional!”

Reigen blinks sleepily, one eyebrow raised. “Oh? That doesn’t sound right. Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Jon all but shouts, rapidly reconsidering his stance on braining the sardonic little git with his tape recorder. “Don’t you even—an-and you’re deflecting again! Just like with your ridiculous ‘haunted gun’ nonsense!”

“I’m not!” Reigen says, clearly deflecting. “I’ve seen this kind of thing loads of times as the number one psychic. When a weapon kills lots of people over 100 years, the bad energy gets bigger and bigger until the gun grows an evil spirit and is hungry—”

“I refuse to believe Gertrude Robinson was murdered by a sentient blunderbuss!!”

“Be that as it may,” Elias interrupts, shooting them both a stern frown. “This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about, Jon. Given how badly it’s affected your work ethic, I will be taking direct action to ensure it does not continue.”

Jon can feel his shoulders hunch almost against his will, dread pooling in his stomach at the thought of whatever punishment is about to be unjustly inflicted on him.

Only Martin looks half as worried as he feels, glancing between him and Elias nervously. By contrast, Tim looks downright triumphant, smirk nasty and vindictive. Sasha’s somewhere between those two, not openly celebrating his soon-to-be-downfall, but not acting like she’d lift a finger on his behalf either, though he’s unsure why that feels like it should surprise him. She’s always been as neutral as Switzerland.

Reigen, oddly enough, has more in common with Martin than with Tim. He’s staring at Elias like he’s waiting for a bit of news he knows he won’t like.

Jon thinks he’d appreciate that more if he wasn’t about to be unfairly lambasted simply for trying to stop a murderer and bring justice for an old woman who probably died frightened and alone. Much like Jon probably will once he’s been hobbled by whatever Elias is about to say next.

“Such as by restricting access to the archives from members of the public who are ultimately doing you more harm than good.”

…Wait.

What?

“What?!” Tim, Martin, and Sasha echo.

Reigen glances between them all, blinking in confusion.

Jon shares the sentiment entirely. His punishment is…for someone else to be removed from the archives? Someone he doesn’t employ or even like that much, no less?

He must have misheard, surely.

Though maybe not, given how Tim looks aghast, glancing between Elias and Reigen. “Okay, no, Reigen’s clearly not the problem here—”

“I’m very sorry, Tim, but Jon has made several remarks about the disruptive nature of Mr. Arataka’s presence in the archives.” Elias sighs. “From the arguments like the one we just witnessed to the nonsensical purchases of oddities inspired by his presence, such as Duolingo subscriptions,” Meaningful glare at Jon who resists the urge to clutch his phone guiltily, “That are now billed on the Archives’ expenses, it unfortunately seems as though he is dragging down productivity for all of you as an active stressor.”

“But we’re much better equipped to take statements from people who don’t speak English because of that!” Martin protests, stepping forward. “Isn’t it an advantage to have a more, more international perspective for our work?”

“One positive in a sea of negatives does not an advantage make.” Elias says, sounding infuriatingly like he’s misquoting something. “And really Martin, how realistic is it that this would help in more than a few isolated cases? I expected better from you.”

Martin’s face crumples, and his shoulders hunch, making himself smaller.

Jon finds his own mouth opening to—what? Say something? What would he even say?

Luckily, Sasha intervenes before he can dig his own grave further. “That’s as may be, but he’s a wonder for morale. He and Jon are funny, not anything serious, and I don’t think we’d have come to you about Jon‘s behavior unless he encouraged us to—”

“Which only fits into the delusion where Jon feels an outsider is rallying his subordinates against him, which is not good for his paranoid outlook.” Elias replies calmly. “And it’s never a healthy work environment when one employee feels the others are making them the butt of a joke.”

“I’d say that’s not as bad as when the boss feels he has the right to violate everyone’s privacy whenever he wants to just ’cause he’s feeling sad!” Tim growls.

Elias begins to answer, before Reigen finally speaks up.

“Sorry,” The con artist says carefully. “But you are…«I know this one…» banning me from the Archives? Yes?”

“That is the long and short of it, yes.” Elias says, grudgingly

“Why?” Reigen challenges, eyes hard and searching. “What have I, personally, done that’s wrong here? What behavior do I need to correct?”

There’s a moment of silence. The whirring of the tape recorder sounds uncomfortably loud.

“Mr. Arataka, are you currently under the employ of the Magnus Institute?” Elias asks, brow furrowed.

“Ah, no, no, but—”

“Are you looking to become employed by the Institute at this point in time, as a prospective member of the Archival Staff?” He fires off rapidly.

“Su-Sorry, but if you could just go a little slower—”

“Then I am afraid that unless you’re looking to fill out an employment contract or a Statement form, we cannot help you, Mr. Arataka.” Elias spreads his hands wide. “We are an academic institution, a place of research and learning. The Institute cannot allow for social dalliances on company time, especially not when those visits are negatively contributing to the work environment and the wellbeing of our staff.”

Tim throws up his hands, “I-I cannot believe this!”

Reigen’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment.

“Arataka is my…what do you call it? First name?” He says, at last. “Using it in this context is…inappropriate. Please call me Reigen, if you would, Bouchard-san.”

“Of course. My mistake, Mr. Reigen.” Elias does have the decency to look somewhat abashed. “Though, regrettably, I am going to have to ask you to leave the premises within the next twenty minutes, or I will be forced to call security.”

Reigen nods, jerkily, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Jon almost wants to call out to the fraud as he turns to go, grab him by the shoulder, pick another argument, something. He knows he should be happy, be glad that this thorn in his side will finally stop bothering him, but instead he just feels—befuddled. Off-kilter.

What happened to the man who once spent three hours arguing for the “spiritual effectiveness” of entirely performative and useless rituals, saying that ensuring his clients left his office fooled and contented was better than actually uncovering genuine supernatural forces and learning all there was to know about them? Why is he going so-so easily now, when he’s made Jon fight tooth and nail in every debate he’s had with the so-called psychic?

At the door, the con man pauses.

“Bouchard-san. You said I could come back if I had a statement to give?”

Elias shifts in his seat, looking bemused. “W-well, yes. That is a service we do provide. Of course, the statement would have to be genuine, and verifiable as such before we let you back into the Archives.”

“We don’t even do that for most of the rubbish we do take,” Tim mutters under his breath, and though Jon is glad he’s not the one being shot a quelling look, he does have to agree.

The con man turns back.

He’s got that smirk on his face that immediately puts Jon’s hackles up on instinct, prepared to argue against whatever inane point he’s come up with now to defend his phony psychic title.

“Gotcha.” Reigen says, far too cheerfully. «Ja ne.»

Then he strolls out of the office, as cool as a cucumber.

Jon could even swear he hears him whistling as he makes his way down the stairs.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“I’d do him.” Sasha pipes up, unhelpfully.

“Sasha!” Martin hisses, scandalized. “D-don’t you have a, a—”

“Oh, I don’t have to worry about that.” She remarks, far too blasé for someone in a newly committed relationship. “Tom’s heard about him too, and he agreed he’s just our type.”

“And I’m not?” Tim jokes, but there’s a hard edge to it that Jon’s found himself increasingly familiar with in the past few weeks.

Sasha shrugs with a mischievous little smile, as if that mattered very little to her.

Elias coughs. “Right. Well. Whatever your relations to Mr. Reigen are, please try to limit them to outside the workplace in future.”

The rest of the intervention is surprisingly subdued. Elias gives Jon access to the footage from the cameras in the rest of the Institute, and Tim bodychecks him on the way out of the office, muttering about how nice it must be to never face any consequences for his actions. Sasha follows, the way she won’t meet his eyes a condemnation in its own right.

Even Martin doesn’t say anything to him, just bites his lip and hurries past back down to the Archives. It doesn’t sting. It doesn’t.

Even as he settles in to watch and rewatch the CCTV records of Gertrude’s last week alive, Jon can’t shake the ridiculous feeling of foreboding that’s dogged him since Reigen left.

Most of him wants to say it comes from the fact that despite the fact that Reigen has not appeared in any of the camera records for the Magnus Institute before he started his term as Head Archivist in 2016, isn’t banning him from the Archives just letting the con man run around London with impunity, with no way for Jon to ascertain his movements or motives? That instead of solving a problem, Elias has just given a potential murderer free reign to escape?

But a small part of Jon, one that never could deny the sensation of being watched, that is frozen in second-hand terror whenever he reads a Statement, knows, Knows that it this stems more from the idea that the fraud will actually accomplish what Elias has unwittingly challenged him to do.

The illogical but pervasive surety that he will do so.

Jon’s not sure if he’s more afraid that Reigen Arataka will vanish entirely, another unfortunate victim become an unsolved mystery.

Or that he’ll come back, and bring whatever he’s managed to unearth on his insane quest with him.

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mypoisonedvine · 5 years ago

Text

Deliverance (Demon!August Walker x Angel!Reader)

for the shared prompt also being filled by: @penwieldingdreamer @ladyreapermc @hnryycvll @toomanystoriessolittletime @yoursecretsmutblog @onceiwasanun

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Explicit

You were never very good at reading people's intentions. You had always been taught to see the good in people-- wasn't that supposed to be your job?

Well, perhaps it wasn't anymore. You'd given everything you had to become a guardian angel and you'd lost it all. Your assigned mortal had trusted the wrong person, so you trusted him, too. You knew he was troubled but she always went back to him and you gave him the benefit of the doubt because it was easier and it seemed like the heavenly thing to do, at the time.

"Protecting people is not so simple," Mīkhāʼēl explained. "It requires a discerning instinct."

"But I was just trying to be good! I wanted to trust him, and believe he could change!"

He sighed and crossed his arms. "Some people can't be trusted, and certainly can't be changed."

"I thought that second chances were integral to our philosophy," you defended. "Forgiveness. Sympathy. Turning the other cheek."

"And how many times did she turn her cheek before he killed her, huh? How many chances did she give him?" he barked. You slumped into your chair in humiliation. You'd let her die, it was your fault. "What do you think it is we do here, Angel? What do you think your role is in all this?"

You shrugged nervously.

"You don't know?"

You looked down. This was humiliating, and Mīkhāʼēl had always scared you a bit.

"Allow me to make it abundantly clear," he frowned. "We are at war. What we do is warfare. Heaven is not operating against a neutral landscape. We are fighting, daily, against the forces of Hell. It is an active, not passive, duty to protect and guide humanity. It requires the use of force, even violence."

You jumped up in protest. "Violence?! But… but that's evil--!"

He grabbed you suddenly, and your words stopped with a yelp. "Don't you understand?" he hissed. "Good is weak, it is defenseless. Evil is the only way to protect what is good."

That was how you ended up suspended and stuck in the human world for a week as punishment. You weren’t sure if you would still be a guardian angel when you got back, but at this point you were just focused on getting back, regardless of what would be waiting for you there. Being mortal felt very uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” a deep and velvety voice asked from behind you. You turned with a gasp to see a striking man-- tall, muscular, unnervingly handsome-- looking at you with confusion and sympathy.

“Oh, it’s-- it’s nothing,” you stammered, looking away.

“Well, when I see a beautiful woman crying all alone at night, it’s hardly nothing to me,” he replied, sitting down next to you. You smiled and rubbed the back of your neck.

“Oh, well I--” you began, but he interrupted you.

“What’s your name, darling?”

For the first time in a while, you had no idea how to answer. You figured that he wouldn’t respond well to an ancient name, in a language that didn’t exist-- in a language that never existed.

“Uh…” you mumbled. “Angel. My name is Angel.” He grinned. “That’s perfect.”

How you ended up in his apartment, leaning against his wall and waiting for him to brew you a coffee, you couldn’t really remember. Well, you could remember-- he asked you, you said yes, he drove you in an automobile-- but the reasoning behind the actions was impossible to explain. On every level, this seemed like a bad idea. And yet, your instincts told you to trust him, that he was safe. His eyes were so kind, and his touch was gentle and occasional.

You told him you were crying because you’d lost your job but you left it at that. Somehow he knew the perfect thing to say, exactly how to comfort you. His hand rubbed your arm and you felt comforted, but you also knew there was more to this than just a stranger being friendly.

“Let me know if there’s anything I could do to help,” he smiled sweetly, looking at you with those eyes that made your whole body hypersensitive.

You found your gaze trailing his body, appreciating one of God’s finer creations. When it met his eyes again, he was looking at you a little differently, a little more hunger in his expression.

“Is there… something I can do for you?” he asked, his voice a little lower. He stepped closer, making you feel cornered against the wall, but your heart fluttered.

“Yes,” you answered quietly.

“What is it?”

“I…”

Sex was a tricky one. Something so pure, so inherently good in its nature, one of the most beautiful parts of creation… and somehow it seemed to be involved in so many varieties of sin. You shivered to imagine something precious being corrupted by evil.

“I can’t say,” you murmured.

“Just ask,” he cooed. “If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask.”

“August,” you sighed, giving in to your primal urge, “touch me, please.”

He smiled. “You are so beautiful,” he cooed as his fingers slipped down your stomach and lifted the hem of your dress.

“Oh, I--”

“Shh,” he soothed, “this will feel good, I promise.”

“I’ve never--”

“I know,” he smiled, “it’s alright.”

His warm fingers delicately traced a line over your underwear and you shivered. Such a simple touch and you were already melting into him,

“O-oh my,” you gasped. He hummed lowly and slipped the fabric aside, finding your lips wet and warm.

Instantly his fingers found a spot that made your knees shake and your mouth fall slack. He smiled and pressed against it harder; your hands flew up to grasp his shoulders.

Just as you felt a mysterious pressure building in your gut, you felt him moving and opened your eyes to see him drop to his knees in front of you. Before you could ask what he was doing, he was pulling down your underwear to your thighs, slipping his head under your skirt, and licking a stripe right through your folds.

“Ohhh,” you groaned, your head falling back against the wall

"You taste like heaven," he praised as he popped up from between your legs.

"You have no idea," you sighed as he got back to work.

His tongue did incredible things to you, while his hands roamed your legs and thighs and ass with patience yet insistence.

“Oh, August, r-right there,” you instructed, a hand grabbing his hair and pulling unintentionally. He moaned against you, sucking harder on your bud until you were sure you were going to reach this clandestine peak any moment now--

He stood up suddenly, pulling you into a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on him and it made you feel a little dizzy.

He stepped back and you found yourself leaning in to chase the kiss, and you blushed when you realized how needy you had become. He watched you with heavy eyes as he unclasped his belt and opened his trousers.

"Oh!" you gasped when you saw his cock. It was… more than you'd bargained for, to say the least.

"I know," he grinned. "What can I say? I'm blessed."

You fought the urge to correct him. That was not the sort of blessing your department provided.

He guided your hand to the member and you wondered why you weren’t trying to pull away. Your delicate fingers wrapped around him and he gasped a bit, as did you. It was so hard, and yet it was smooth and soft and hot in your hands.

He moved you by your wrist so your hand massaged his length, his head falling back a bit as his hips began to thrust into your grip.

“Yeah, stroke it, just like that,” he praised, moving against you a bit faster.

“Is… is it good?” you asked nervously.

“Yes,” he sighed, “so good-- you’re doing so good for me, Angel.”

His eyes shot open suddenly, and he leaned in, caging you against the wall, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“I want to be inside you,” he whispered. “I need to be inside you.”

You gasped, feeling arousal surge into your core.

“I… I don’t think it’ll fit,” you admitted. He chuckled.

“I’ll make it fit,” he soothed, his voice making the hairs on the back of your neck stand alert.

He carried you to his bed, laying you down after removing your dress delicately, like he was revealing a classical painting from behind a curtain.

His own clothes were shed so quickly that you barely had time to register the perfectly chiseled form of his chest before he was hovering over you, his limbs caging you in, his hips dangerously close to yours.

“You are so perfect,” he sighed.

“I… I doubt that,” you deflected.

His hands ran all over your body, taking a little extra time at your breasts and thighs, the latter of which he spread apart, staring at your sex as he grasped his cock and began to move forward to plunge into you.

“August!” you protested, though you weren’t sure what exactly you would say if he stopped. It didn’t matter, because he didn’t, roughly pressing the head of his cock into you. There was a burn, a sting, and you yelped.

“Damn,” he grinned, “so tight. Fuck. Really, really fuckin’ tight.”

“August, it’s-- hnng-- it’s too big,” you whimpered.

“You can take it,” he encouraged. “You’re such a good girl. Be a good girl and take it.”

He pushed further in and you winced as your body stretched beyond what you thought was possible. You were so wet, so eager, and yet there was resistance.

“S-slow down,” you begged.

“You’ve almost got it, baby, you’ve almost got all of me. Fuck, you feel so good.”

He felt good, too, and his words of praise certainly encouraged your body and mind as he pressed the last inch in and buried himself completely.

"Oh god," he groaned as he bottomed out inside you, and you really hated that.

“August,” you mewled.

“Say my name again,” he demanded.

“A-august,” you stuttered. He moaned and pulled back-- you sighed at the relief, only for him to slam back into you. You choked and nearly screamed as he did it again, and again, and again.

“So perfect,” he cooed, “so good for me.”

“It hurts,” you whined, your fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders.

“It’s gonna feel good, baby, it’s gonna feel so good, just hold on a little longer--”

His hand slipped down and massaged that little bud between your legs again, and your back arched. The pleasure mixed with the pain and suddenly the two became indistinguishable.

“Oh, oh August,” you moaned. He laughed a little, darkly, looking down at you.

“Feels good now, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” you admitted, feeling a little guilty as heat burned your cheeks.

“Fuck,” he moaned, “gonna make you feel so good, Angel.”

His cock was pressing against every part of your insides, stretching you in a way that you could finally appreciate-- so fulfilling, so powerful. He reached deeper into you than you knew you could go, and it nearly hurt but mainly you were focused on the pleasure, on the way you couldn’t help but clench and tighten around him.

“God, baby,” he sighed, “that’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

All too quickly, that pressure was building again. You just knew that if he kept going, you could glimpse something so powerful, something that would change everything.

“Yes, yes, oh--” you gasped, “don’t stop, August.”

“I won’t, Angel,” he cooed, “I won’t stop, I promise.”

“I’m gonna-- oh--”

“Go ahead,” he encouraged, “let go. Come for me.”

Your eyes screwed shut as your back arched; your whole body was alight with a crackling energy that emanated from where your bodies were connected and shot all the way to your fingers and toes, which curled and tightened.

How could this be wrong, when it felt so wonderfully right? How could this be anything but good?

“How was your time on Earth?” Mīkhāʼēl asked.

“Uh, enlightening,” you chuckled.

“Yes, mortality can be quite taxing,” he nodded. “But hopefully you’ve learned your lesson. You’re holy again, but you’re on probation. You need to learn to appreciate your place in all this.”

“And what, exactly, is my place in all this?”

“A pawn.”

You slumped into your seat. “Right.”

“It’s warfare. I’m not sure what you thought it was we did here, but you’re about to find it abundantly clear.”

Your eyes went wide. “How so?”

“We recently captured a demon-- an enemy of God and all that is good in His world. We need information from him in order to prevent more destruction and corruption.”

“So, an interview?”

He laughed a little, his head dropping into his hands. “Oh, you really don’t understand the enemy at all. But you will.” Mīkhāʼēl looked up and glared at you. “You’re going to interrogate him.”

“Wha-- me?”

“It’s the safest way for you to see one up close. He’s restrained, he can’t hurt you unless you let him out. Uh, don’t do that, obviously.”

“Of course.”

“You need to appreciate how evil they are. You need to see what we’re up against.”

“O-okay.”

Mīkhāʼēl led you to a level of the heavens you’d never seen before-- a dungeon. It was dark and damp in a way totally opposite to the rest of this place you’d always called home. It disturbed you that this even existed.

He took you down a hallway only to shove you into a room, slamming the big stone door behind you. It was dark, lit only by torch sconces, and you could only barely make out the shape of a chained creature against the wall.

“Angel,” he greeted with a low and gravelly voice. You froze.

“...August?”

“One of a few names of mine, yes,” he answered.

You turned, and gasped when you saw him. He had been tortured thoroughly, it seemed. Chains wrapped around his body and held him back against the wall where his hulking form cast a shadow over blood-spattered stone. Cuts and burns littered his skin, and even with a blackened eye and a swollen lip, he looked as beautiful as ever. He looked less human than before, though. You couldn’t tell if his skin was redder and darker in this form, or if it was just the dim lighting and blood.

He looked at you and gave you a weak but devilish smile… literally. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, crushed under the weight of what you had done. Of course it would come back to bite you.

“You’re allowed to say that?”

You winced. “I’m not supposed to, no.”

“You’re learning how fun it is to break the rules.”

You looked away, rubbing your arm nervously. “When we met before,” you awkwardly recalled, “did you… know?”

“Know you were an Angel? No,” he answered. “I sensed your purity; I came, I saw, I conquered-- it’s sort of my modus operandi.”

You shuddered.

“This,” he grinned, “is a lovely surprise. The wings suit you, by the way.”

“You looked better before,” you grimaced.

“Don’t care for the horns?” “I meant that you’re beaten and bloodied and bound.”

“Oh, so you do care for the horns,” he winked. “They always do.”

They. How terrible. You were such a fool to think that there was anything special or meaningful about what had happened in the human world that day.

“So,” he started, “you’re here to torture me, yeah?”

“I… suppose so, yes,” you shifted nervously.

“So, what’s the plan? They’ve got a whole menagerie of toys over there,” he motioned with his head. You didn’t even want to look at the bloodied tools.

“I want to bless you,” you offered instead. He hissed.

“Sounds painful.”

“It will be, at first,” you admitted, “but maybe you can be saved.”

He laughed a little at that, but his exhaustion was apparent.

“Or,” you proposed instead, “I could just carve the tetragrammaton into your chest.”

“Ooh, creative,” he sighed. “I’ll take the blessing, thank you.”

As you stepped closer, you could see that he was breathing quickly. He looked afraid. Perhaps others enjoyed this feeling of invoking fear in others, but you did not.

A phial of holy water was tied to the cords at your waist, and he squirmed against the chains as he watched you untie and uncork it.

“In the name of the Father,” you began; each droplet of water instantly steamed as it hit his skin, and you watched his face as each impact brought a strong initial reaction but the pain faded quickly. “And the Son,” another flick of water, “and the Holy Spirit,” one final spray.

He grunted a little but shut his eyes as he fought the pain.

“Still a demon?” you asked nervously. His eyes were still shut but he laughed a little.

“That was nothing,” he chuckled. “The real torture is seeing you right there and being chained up. The things I would do to be able to touch you right now.”

“You can’t seriously tell me that you got off on being burned with holy water.”

“Got off? Not even close,” he frowned. “But there was certainly a physical reaction. Look for yourself.”

He moved his hips a little and you caught the shape of his erection against his trousers in the corner of your eye before you looked away.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” he smiled, “you’ve seen it before.”

“Don’t remind me,” you shuddered.

His gaze made your whole body feel warm, and tingly, and a bit nauseous.

“I can smell your doubt,” August cooed, “among other things.” “Doubt is a natural step on the journey of faith,” you answered clinically.

“Yes, it’s certainly my favorite,” he grinned.

“Exploiting people at their most vulnerable-- how twisted,” you shook your head.

“Darling, that’s what you people do,” he grimaced. “My job has always been to help people do what’s good for them.” “At the cost of what’s good for others,” you added. He shrugged with a half-smile.

“If everyone looks out for themselves, they put each other in their place.”

“Please stop trying to explain your Satanic philosophy as if it is logical or right in any way,” you frowned.

“Okay, but tell me this: how does me, chained to a wall and tortured, fit into your Heavenly philosophy?”

You considered that, looking away and trying not to notice him staring at you. You weren’t sure what inspired you to do it, but you stepped forward and loosened his chains until he was able to let his arms rest at his sides again. He sighed with relief, and looked down at you. You realized you were standing too close to him, but you were unable to step away.

He hummed as he scanned your body with his gaze. “I know exactly what you’re going through,” he purred, reaching out to you. “You’re beginning to wonder how the proprietors of ‘good’ can do things that are so evil,” he continued, his fingers beginning to trail down your stomach, “and how something so evil,” his fingers reached between your legs, “can feel so good.”

Your head fell back with a gasp as he did that thing with his fingers that made your body melt into his touch.

“You can’t… we can’t…” you mumbled, but couldn’t finish the thought.

“What’s your plan to stop me, Angel? Will you smite me back to Hell?”

“N-no,” you answered, “then you’d be free.”

“Ah, can’t pull the wool over your eyes,” he praised.

Like all sin, you weren’t sure how you ended up in the thick of it, but suddenly your ears were filled with the sound of jingling chains as you were straddling his lap, your robe tattered and tossed aside, riding him while he growled and pulled you closer.

“God, you are perfect,” he groaned.

All you could do was moan and throw your head back as his length speared you so perfectly.

When you heard the shifting of metal, at first you assumed it was his chains, or maybe a sconce falling off the wall from the force of him fucking you so brutally. It wasn’t until it was far too late that you realized it was the opening of the door as Mīkhāʼēl re-entered.

You tried to jump up and run away, as if there was any chance at plausible deniability at this point, but August held you tighter, wrapping his arm around your neck until you were nearly choking.

Mīkhāʼēl’s look of shock quickly morphed to disgust, contempt, and rage.

“You defile an angel, demon!” he bellowed. August just grinned, black eyes sparkling in the firelight.

“This isn’t-- I didn’t mean-- he made me--”

Instantly, Mīkhāʼēl’s hand was around your throat, and his eyes burned through you with a hot white heat.

“Do not bear false witness, Angel,” he growled, his voice echoing across the stone. The place where his skin was on yours started to crackle and sizzle as you felt the holy fire of judgment consume you.

“No, please!” you begged, reaching for him, but it was too late: you were already falling, already tumbling into nothingness, already feeling the emptiness overtake you as you were plunged from grace, to mortality, to exile.

You came to against a stone floor, aware only of the darkness that surrounded you and the ache on your back where you were hypersensitive to your lack of wings. This was much worse than your time as a mortal in the human world. You must have still had some holiness at that point-- maybe just the inherent holiness that came with being a part of God’s creation rather than stranded outside of it-- because now you were sore and aching and your sense of balance was all wrong as you tried to stand up.

“Hello?” you called into the darkness, immediately hating how weak you sounded.

Suddenly the darkness shifted, and there was August, no longer chained, still horned and black-eyed, bearing little burns on his chest from where you had hit him with the holy water.

“Come with me,” he offered, extending a hand to you. You shied away but he grabbed you and pulled you into him.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“When have I ever done that?” he asked, and you were too busy being dragged forward to answer.

Suddenly there was a door, and he was opening it, and you were in some sort of hallway. The smell of brimstone hit you first, then the heat. Hungry eyes devoured you from every direction, and you shivered under their glares.

You forced your eyes closed as you stepped forward and repeated a prayer quietly to yourself. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.”

"Your god can't reach this place," August informed you. You opened your eyes, your mantra interrupted.

"He can do anything," you frowned. "He could retrieve me if He wanted."

"Well, then he must not want to."

You looked away and crossed your arms.

At the end of a hall was a door, and August motioned to it: “this is my bedroom. Dinner is in an hour,” he explained coolly. “Your clothes are laid out for you on our bed.” “You can’t dress me up,” you frowned, “and you can’t make me share a bed with you.”

“We’ll discuss this after we eat,” he replied sharply,

The dress was… not the sort of thing you were used to wearing. Black, revealing, heavy with beading and other vain decorations.

You were just thankful it covered the new scars on your back.

August was waiting for you in the dining room. His table was overflowing with more food than you’d seen perhaps in all your life combined. Fruits, meats, enough cakes and desserts to kill a grown man. All this abundance made even more unavoidable the fact that it was just you and him alone in the room.

"The Lord sets a table before me in the presence of mine enemies," you smirked.

“I’m not your enemy,” he corrected. “I’m the only person sticking up for you right now.”

“You’re holding me captive.”

“You have nowhere else to go. You know I didn’t bring you here, right? You were cast down. If it weren’t for me, you’d be up to your eyes in the ‘weeping and gnashing of teeth’ stuff right now.”

“So I’m supposed to just ignore what you are?”

He stood up and pulled you into him, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“And what am I, exactly?”

"You're an incubus. You seduce people, feed on their sin. It's filthy, it's… awful."

"Aww, Angel, are you jealous?” he purred as he leaned down to ghost his lips over your neck. “You shouldn't be. You're more than enough to sustain me. Just say the word and I'm yours-- I'll never seduce another. You're all I need, Angel, you're all I want."

"Lead me not into temptation," you whispered to yourself as your eyes fluttered shut.

"Stop praying," he murmured against your skin, "He can't hear you. He's not here. I'm here."

You felt the heavy fabric of your dress being lifted as the skirt ran up your legs. And there he was, running his fingers over your slit, gasping at the wetness he found there.

“Oh, Angel,” he moaned right beside your ear.

“I… I have a name, you know,” you pointed out.

“I’d rather not burn my tongue on your language, but thank you for the heads up.”

“You just like reminding yourself that I’m an angel,” you frowned.

“I like reminding myself that you used to be an angel,” he hissed.

Your gut twisted and you felt your eyes start to burn with tears. You had lost everything for this. For him. And of course it was a mistake, the worst mistake you would ever make, but now that the deed was done, you only had two options: keep the thing you’d given up your spot in Heaven for, or run away and be left with well and truly nothing.

The choice, while cruel, was obvious.

“August,” you whimpered.

“Yes, Angel?” he answered with an expectant look.

“Make love to me,” you requested in a weak voice.

“Oh, darling,” he grinned, his teeth sharp and glistening in the light of the fire, "I'm not going to make love to you. I'm going to devour you."

#august walker x reader #henry cavill x reader #august walker smut #august walker x y/n #henry cavill smut #mission impossible fanfiction #mi:fallout #mi:fallout fanfiction

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amberwild420 · 4 years ago

Text

one step back, two steps forwards (pt. 14)

masterlist

balance must be maintained

Kaylan unlocked the door and started arranging the grocery she bought. Her mother had a lot of sessions and thus she was alone in the whole apartment.

That was until her eyes flashed. Quietly walking up to her room she waited before opening the door and tackling the intruder in her room. After a little struggle, Kaylan pinned the intruder, knife to their neck.

But that was unnecessary.

Okay that was a normal reaction. But I’m sorry for intruding.

Ladybug spoke hurriedly. The cold glare she got from the girl was terrifying. She seriously should have used the door. Kaylan sighed before letting the spotted heroin go.

Use the door next time.

That’s……..you’re right.

Ladybug looked away. Inviting the heroin with her she went back to sorting.

So what can I do for the Paris hero? It must be urgent if you came personally.

Ladybug looked around as if to find any person who might be around. Kaylan gave a knowing smile.

It’s only you and me here.

Oh!................well I have called you time and time again for help and you really helped us with so many things and I really think that you know how to fight unlike us who had to follow our instincts and you make up for the setbacks with your skills……………

Get to the point.

Kaylan stopped ladybug from her rambling making the said person flush in embarrassment. She pulled a box from her yoyo and put it in front of her. The familiar marking on the box made her eyes widen.

Kaylan stared at the box before she looked at the hero in front of her.

Kaylan fox, this is the miraculous of wolf. You will use its power for greater good and protect the innocent people from the evil and bringing the balance. Can I trust you?

Wait, are you..?

Ladybug nodded.

You have seen chat’s performance I akuma battle. I need permanent support system. And having Ryuu and python isn’t enough. We need your strength. Especially if you can use magic as well. Please I beg you.

Seeing the Paris hero pleading her this way, Kaylan frowned. It was heart breaking to see someone so young, shouldering so much weight.

Alright. Give a little time to get acquaintance with my partner.

Ladybug smiled widely before saying goodbye.

Have a nice day, Marinette.

You too!

Ladybug jumped and swing away before a distinct scream of agony could be heard, making Kaylan laugh.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the other hand Marinette was pacing around and rambling to Tikki about her outed identity.

I can’t believe it! Tikki! Can you believe it?! She just said ‘have a nice day, Marinette’ and I was like ‘you too’! Like seriously! I had outed my identity in the worst way possible!

Tikki giggled as she float around. Normally she would try to force the importance of secret identity but she looked amused at her chosen’s panic. After a while she decided to stop her from digging a hole in the floor with her pacing.

Marinette you don’t need to worry about that.

But Tikki! You said that secret identities…….!

But you don’t have to worry about it being exposed through Kaylan. Wolves are naturally loyal to their packs.

There was a sudden silence before Marinette looked at her Kwami.

Why did I just saw that Kwami now? I thought all of them were residing in the miracle box?

It’ because she is the Kwami of balance. And balance must be maintained. She would only come out when the need arises. There is a must condition that can have an active wolf.

Marinette nodded before taking a deep breath. She’ll let it be this time.

#One Step Back #two steps forward #original character #miraculous ladybug #marinette needs good friends #marinette protection squad #new miraculous #balance

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damnzawa · 5 years ago

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henlo i'm not sure what your rules are for requests so i'm sorry if i'm doing this wrong i just love your writing uwu 👉🏼👈🏼 aizawa with an hero!s/o turned into a neko because they got hit by a quirk after fighting some villain? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

(CAT)ASTROPHE — A. SHOUTA

Note(s): OMG ?? I ?? AM ?? SO ?? FLATTERED ?? THAT ?? YOU ?? LIKE ?? MY ?? SHITTY ?? ASS ?? AND ?? CLICHE ?? WRITING ?? also i live for these types of scenarios SO EFF YES

Warning(s): Poorly written fight scene, Aizawa having a mental breakdown, Cat Fluff

...

Being a pro-hero comes with a lot of pros and cons. For some, the pros may outweigh the cons and vice versa. Some even has a healthy balance of both. While you, you were one of the people who have pros outweigh the cons.

You weren't really the pro-hero to compete for the spotlight but you still had a good number of people who knows of you and what you could do. Though, you aren't as flashy as the others, you had a unique charm to you that draws people's attention towards you.

It was that charm that drew the infamous hobo man of U.A. to you, all in his yellow, shining (not really) sleeping bag glory. Though at first, he was irritated at the fact that you were just a natural at everything and everybody just seemed to love you. But as time went by, he realized that this charm of yours has truly captivated him. You weren't like the other pro-heroes he had met. No. You were unique. One of a kind. Genuinely different from the others.

After months of (silent) pining, he decided to just fuck it and ask you out on a date, in which surprisingly you happily agreed to. As time progressed, and two dates became 3, 4, 5, and counting, he got to know more sides of you. More characteristics to add to your charm. And by the time you reached your 2nd year anniversary, you guys decided to move in together—which was by far the greateat decision you and Aizawa has ever made.

Your charms are a part of your pros. It's what makes you, you. But unfortunately, you had yet to learn that it was one of your cons too.

It was the usual night patrol. Check any suspicious activity, check if anyone's doing crimes, check up on the stray cat on the alley, repeat. Honestly, some times patrols can be quite a bore. But you didn't mind. It was part of the job after all.

Cautiously walking down the street, you suddenly heard a scream from one of the alleys nearby. You quickly sprinted into action, not sparing another second as you rushed into the scene of the crime.

"Please! Don't hurt my child!" The woman screamed as the villain inched closer to them. Silently creeping up on the thug, you noticed that the villain had a weapon—a gun to be exact which was gonna be a pain if they ever shot the woman and/or his child. "Please! It's all I have! I promise!" A robbery? In the night? Typical villain move.

"Step away from them." You commanded the villain as you activated your quirk. A force field acting as a shield appeared out of nowhere, protecting the woman and her child from harm. You could tell that the woman was relieved, however, the child was still crying.

The villain chuckled as he turned around to face you, your hero name rolling off his tongue in a sinister way. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the saviors of society! The heroes! Protecting the world from evil doers such as myself." You could feel a speech coming. You honestly could feel it. "At least that's what you think. You heroes think you're good shit after taking down some bad guys but do you ever wonder about those who also suffer because of you?" He pointed the gun towards you making you squint at him. "I lost my family! Because of you guys! Because of that stupid Endeavor! You don't really care about the people! You just care about the fame! The money! The recognition you'll get after locking us all up in jail!"

"I assure you, heroes are not like that. Sure we have our own ambitions, but we all protect the people. That's our number one priority." Your response made him snarl. "And as much as I would love to stay and chat..." You activates your quirk once again, this time making whips out of light. "...It's time to pay for your crimes." You attacked him with the whip to which he skillfully dodged. He appeared from place to place with a blink of an eye, making it hard for you to apprehend him.

'Shit. A teleportation quirk? That's gonna be a pain in the ass.'

Dodging his punches that came out of nowhere, you kicked him in the gut. After reading watching his moves while dodging, you figured out that he has this pattern. He would first attack you in the back—which caught you by surprise the first time—then he would go for your front then your sides. It was the repeating pattern he used on you, so after getting used to it, you finally had the upper hand.

He was thrown a bit from the force of your kick but quickly recovered from it. He attacked you with another punch on your left which you countered by grabbing on his arm and twisting it until you heard a crack.

'Well now he certainly can't punch with that one.'

"You bitch!" He pulled out his gun and repeatedly fired shots at you. Every shot was a miss and then finally you encaged him in a box of light.

"Sweet dreams." And with that, you knocked him out with your quirk.

After putting on quirk nullyfing cuffs and a rope made out of light around his body, you checked up on the victims. The woman was repeatedly thanking you while the child was still shaken up.

"Hey now kiddo. It's alright. You're safe now." You approached him with a gentle smile on your face. You were about to place comforting hand on his shoulder when he suddenly shot up.

"No! Get away from me and my mom!" A sudden force emitted from his body as he pushed you to the ground.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry about that!" You stood up and brushed yourself off as the woman repeatedly apologized for her son's behavior.

"No ma'am. It's alright. I'm fine, no harm done. See?" You flashed her a smile. "Kiddo, it's alright now. I'm a pro-hero. Police are on the way. Can you stay for a bit and tell them what happened?" The boy reluctantly nodded which made you smile even wider. "That's great then! You were brave out there kiddo."

"I'm sorry for using my quirk on you..." The boy muttered. You ruffled his hair and told him that it was alright. Though, you would surely see a paramedic later.

After the police arrived and collected your statements, you headed home with a headache. Apparently, the woman and her child doesn't know what his quirk actually is. The robbery might have triggered his quirk and you were the first one to be hit with it.

Great.

Just great.

You just hoped Aizawa was home too. You clearly need some of his A+ cuddles to ease the pain.

You arrived at your shared apartment shortly, but before you could even reach your shared bedroom, you blacked out.

...

Aizawa Shouta wasn't having the greatest day of his life. An eventful and rowdy day at U.A, then an eventful and extra rowdy patrol at night all while running with 3 hours of sleep? Yep. Not the greatest day of his life.

The grumpy man groaned as he remembered the stack of papers waiting for him back home. He could already feel the pain he was about to endure for the greater good of the future heroes he was teaching. He frowned as he imagined Kaminari's sloppy handwriting—and a possible doodle of him—in his homework, he could also imagine the cluster of words that didn't make sense brought to him by Mina Ashido.

But he could also imagine you greeting him with a kiss as usual. He could imagine your arms wrapped around him in a loving embrace, washing out the stress he previously had. He could imagine you rolling your eyes at him as he complained about you not getting enough sleep. He could imagine you helping him grade those forsaken essays he made his students do.

Well, maybe this day wasn't so bad for him. After all, he had you to go home to.

After opening the door, he expected you to greet him with open arms and ask him how his day went. He expected you to make fun of his struggles as a teacher and remind him that it was his choice to teach to begin with. But instead he was met with silence and no you.

To: Y/n

From: Shouta

Are you patrolling late tonight?

He waited for a few minutes but he didn't recieve a reply. He sent another message, and another, and another, until he finally decided to wash up and wait up for you just incase anything happens.

Just as he was about to enter your shared bedroom, he noticed your hero costume on the floor, a lump of something breathing underneath it. He lifted your hero costume, revealing a (h/c) cat—who stirred at his actions—sleeping peacefully. His hand instinctively reached down to pet it, feeling the smooth fur on his fingertips. The petting caused the animal to wake up, it's tired eyes looking at him with such warmness it was almost so familiar yet he couldn't remember where it's from.

"Shouta?" Aizawa froze on the spot as he heard your voice leaving the cat's mouth. He blinked owlishly, trying to process what the hell happened. Did the cat just speak? And did the cat sounded just like you?

"Why the hell are you so big? Did something happen?" You—the cute cat infront of him—asked as you unconsciously started to rub your cat chin into his shoulder.

"Y/n, I should be the one asking you that." You perked up at his response, head tilting as you waited for an answer.

"What do you mean?" Oh god you were giving him the cute eyes.

"Y/n, you're a cat."

"I'm a cat." You repeated. "Wait—what?" You blinked as you realized what had happened. Oh. So this was that child's quirk. "Shit."

"Shit indeed." Aizawa picked you up gently and placed you on the bed. "Mind telling me what happened?"

"Ok so..."

...

Aizawa secretly carried a laser on him the next day. You were dismissed of your hero duties for a week (because that's how long the quirk's gonna last) and was stuck in the apartment all day so he figured you could use a little fun right?

Right...

You greeted him as usual, but instead of human you, cat you is rubbing your body around his ankles and making a '8' shape as you circled his feet. It was quite cute to be honest. He had a soft spot for cats and you after all. He tried his best not to melt then and there.

"I've got something for you." Your ears went forward and your tail erected with it's fur flat at the statement. Clearly, you were happy. Aizawa brought out the laser thingy he had and started pointing it towards the wall, to which you suddenly leaped for. You followed the dot everywhere it landed and Aizawa couldn't help but smile at the sight infront of him.

...

"Shouta." You poked his cheek. "Shouta." You poked it once again. Why were you poking him exactly? Well, you were hungry and it was in the middle of the night. You couldn't reach the pantry nor the fridge handle so you reluctantly asked Aizawa for help. Somehow, he wouldn't budge. After poking him a couple more times, he opened an eye that showed that he was clearly annoyed by your behavior.

"What?" Came his gruff reply.

"I'm hungry." Aizawa sighed as he stood up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

"Fine." Sluggishly walking towards the kitchen, he looked at you silently trailing behind him. "You want tuna?"

"Haha, very funny Shou."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Yes please."

...

You purred as Aizawa rubbed the spot behind your ears. It was becoming a habit for Aizawa to pet and rub you like this and honestly, he was enjoying it—not that he'd ever tell anyone about it.

You insisted to not cancel your annual dinner date at your shared apartment which consisted of eating takeouts and watching whatever was on Netflix. You and Aizawa happily ate your food—you ate tuna... again—and now, the both of you were watching some Studio Ghibli film, well atleast you were supposed to.

You quickly got distracted once Aizawa started petting you, leading to you not focusing on the film at all. Aizawa's eyes was still on the film playing but you were sure he was also distracted. You found it a bit weird that the both of you quickly adjusted to this cat life and that neither of you freaked out at all. Maybe it was the pro-hero sides of you, who knows. But it was nice to see Aizawa helping you in any way that he can.

His petting abruptly stopped as he stiffled out a yawn. You looked at him and saw that he looked completely exhausted. More so than usual.

So, you hopped out of his lap and switched off the TV as you nudged Aizawa's leg with your paws.

"Come on Shou. Let's go to sleep."

Aizawa did not decline your offer and gladly followed you out of the room.

...

By the end of the week while having breakfast a loud 'poof' and smoke suddenly covered the whole room. After the smoke cleared, it revealed you in all of your naked human body glory.

"Welcome back, Y/n."

"Oh shut up, Shou."

ADDITIONAL NOTE(S)

This was fun to write! I hope I did this right though lolol. Also, requests are open!!

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta/reader #eraserhead x reader #eraserhead/reader #aizawa/reader #x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #NEKO!READER FUCK YES #aizawa and cats?? purrfect #haha the title's a pun #I LOVE HOBO MAN

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rwbyvein · 4 years ago

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Firen Lhain: Chapter 711: The Hart of the Oak: Part III/III

Ironwood walked into the lab and loomed over Doctor Pollendina's desk. "Tell me, Pietro, how are the new Knights coming along."

"We've figured out what not to do." Pietro said to him with a smile, but Ironwood's espressionless face looked back at him.

"Elaborate." Ironwood said to him.

"Oh, yes, well," Pietro stated, "we figured it would be hugely ineffective to give each and every one a complete, high degree of independence, so we've designed them to coodinate with a hierarchy. Considering they are Knights, we've decided to call them Sergeants and Captains. Or Maybe Baronettes and Barons."

"That is," Ironwood stated, and paused, "appropriate. And what of the other project?"

"She obviously won't be the same." Pietro stated.

"Improvements?" Ironwood asked.

"We'll obviously be learning from our mistakes before," Pietro said, "but no, that's not what I meant. She'll likely have the same memories as before, but she won't be the same. That's not the way Aura works."

"I expect you've learned at lot more about Aura?" Ironwood asked.

"Oh, indeed." Pietro stated. "Every living thing has an Aura."

"Even animals?" Ironwood asked.

"Animals, plants, insects." Pietro stated, "What's different with Humans, and Huntsmen in particular, is the EXPRESSION of the Aura."

"So?" Ironwood asked, "How does this apply to the Knights?"

"We have to get them to express their Aura." Pietro stated, and Ironwood gave him a confused look. "Like Humans do." Pietro then spun his chair around. "That's why it worked with PENNY."

"So?," Ironwood asked, "you've unlocked the mystery?"

"We never knew why PENNY was the one to express her Aura, but that's because we were looking for a technical solution." With this Ironwood's face fell.

"I don't like where this is headed." Ironwood stated, "Let me guess, the reason PENNY developed Aura is because?.."

"She was my daughter." Pietro said with a smile that quickly turned into a sad frown.

"If we have to raise them as children to get them to use Aura?," Ironwood asked, "what does this mean for the Knights?"

"Well, we're not certain." Pietro stated, and turned back towards his computer. "Our current hypothesis is that the Human interaction is the important part, whatever it's nature." He then turned back to Ironwood, "Though, obviously only positive ones. Knights that fight alongside Huntsmen will be the most likely to fully develop their Aura."

"So?," Ironwood asked and sighed, "we can't mass produce them?"

"But we can produce them." Pietro stated, and a weak smile appeared on Ironwood's face. "But also, because of their dependence on their Sergeants and Captains, they will likely share in their experience.

* * *

The crisp, white Atlasian uniforms stood in stark contrast to the grime and murk of the Atlasian sewers. The leader had his scroll open with the schematics of the sewers overlayed with the schematics of Belcrest Tower, the iconic home of 'Bluebonnet' Belamy's business empire. They used sonic scanners powered by Wind Dust to probe the walls, seeing the echos of unknown hollows. Despite their discovery, they continued out, sweeping the entirety of the sewers. They climbed the ladder out of the sewer to the streets above them. The leader picked up his radio to send a message. "Uniform One-Fife to Zero."

"Zero." the radio replied, "Go ahead Uniform One-Fife."

"Uniform One-Fire. Sweep complete. Area clear. Persons of Interest not found."

"Zero. Roger that Uniform One-Fire. Cleared to return to base."

"Uniform One-Fife Out." he stated, and put away the handset for the radio.

* * *

Jaune and Yang walked into the ground floor of the turret. They stepped around the table to let the others come in. "This is where y'all be stayin'." Yang said to them. "Ilia took the third floor, which leaves two and four. Oh, wait, what did Weiss' sis take?" Yang then picked up her scroll and rang.

"And Taj," Jaune stated, "is on the second."

"Yang?" Weiss asked from the other end, "How can I help you?"

"Just love hearing your beautiful voice, Linnet." Yang said, and then dropped her hand. Everyone was looking at her curiously. "Giving her a chance to coyly blush. Good God, she's good at that." Yang then brought the scroll to her mouth. "Tell me, sweet thing, where did your sis setup camp?"

"If you're asking where she will be sleeping, she chose the second floor of the turret. She found it efficient."

"Thank you, sweet thing." Yang said, and made an audible kissing noise. "So, looks like Weiss' sis setup on the second floor, which leaves the fourth for you. I'd show you around, but, it's a tower. Feel free to explore it yourself. Just, you know, play nice."

"We will be on our best behaviour." Cinder said with a wicked grin.

* * *

CEM walked through the third floor. Emerald's eyes quickly caught sight of all of the possessions.

"You just can't help yourself, can you." Mercury said to her, and Emerald turned to glare at him. "You steal one thing, and everything we built up here."

"You just have to talk down to me, don't you?!" Emerald asked.

"I hate to do this, Emerald, but he's right." Cinder said to her.

"What are you saying?!" a hurt Emerald asked. "I thought you?.."

"I did recruit you, afterall." Cinder said to her, "Your ability to pickpocket is good, but you really have to do something about your desire to casually steal from people." CEM made it to the fourth floor, and looked at the four beds and the open floor plan, "And I suppose this is where we will be staying." she said, trying her best sound enthusiastic. She then sat on one of the beds. Mecury walked across from then and flopped on another. "You need to realize, Emerald, that you're not a starving orphan, anymore. And Mercury, you could be more understanding of the instincts that have helped her to survive all these years."

"I... yeah... I guess..." Mercury voiced. He then sat up, "Look, sorry. I mean, nothing personal, right? I don't want us to start group hugging, or something, but you guys are kind of like family. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You could just mug some drug lords and live like a king." Emerald said.

"I could." Mercury replied, and flopped back on the bed, "Doesn't mean I want to. I mean, you've got to have something to live for, right?" He then sat up with a start. "That fucking twat is rubbing off on me. What the fuck?"

"If you try to hug me, I'm punching you." Emerald stated.

"With good reason." Mercury voiced.

* * *

"So," Pietro continued, "Knights who follow their Sergeant and Captains will gain a portion of their abilities, and over time they will learn to work together."

"Do you need two levels?" Ironwood asked.

"Yes and no." Pietro stated, "Sergeant are required. Captains can be substituted for Humans, preferably Huntsmen."

"We have some glimmer of hope." Ironwood stated, and turned to walk away, hands clasped behind his back.

"We always did." Pietro replied.

* * *

RWB + NR + I + A looked proudly at the multi-layered cake they had produced.

"Well," Weiss said, "we managed to produce a wonderful cake."

"Thanks to Ren and Aurora." Blake added.

"Well, yes..." Weiss voiced, "But the important thing is Jaune does not have to fear not getting cake for his birthday."

* * *

The Human forms moved silently through the forest when they felt a presence, as if the woods themselves were watching them. A great, terrifying voice bellowed out, "You come through my woods. Not only do you not have my permission, or that of my Earl, you come with evil in your hearts for him!"

* * *

Neo sat in the co-pilot seat of the airship as a message appeared on her scroll. Something about a black deer attacking them. She messaged them a few times, but got no reply. She confirmed that they were received. So, the deer was in the woods. It was impressive that he could take out half a dozen mercenaries so easily, but without him in the tower, things would be a lot easier.

#rwby #firen lhain #faunus au #pollinated knight

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zargsnake · 4 years ago

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Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 6: Tila Juna

Word Count: 1659 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

* * *

As he is meditating, several guards burst through the curtain into Obi-Wan's room.

“Alright, Jedi, what did you do?” asks a Rodian.

“Do?”

“Where is your boy?” asks an Ithorian in his steady, peculiar language, which the cosmopolitan scholar of course understands perfectly.

“Oh, dear. I thought he was with you!”

The Rodian smacks his insolent guts with her staff. “He's run off! What did you tell him? What did you give him?”

“Nothing. I know nothing about this station. And I haven't left this room.”

The Rodian whacks him on the head. “Sneaky Jedi rat.”

The Ithorian wearily halts his coworker’s attack. “Juna’s girl will work just as well for your death matches. Your boy was only ever extra bait. Now he has proven himself to be only trouble.” His gaze is imperious and bland. “When we find him, we shoot on sight. Then we’ll slice off his head before you can pull any of your magic tricks, and divide the spoils between the upper officers.”

“You underestimate him. He cannot be found if he doesn't want to be.”

“We shall see,” the third guard, a Zabrak, threatens.

Obi-Wan feels no fear at her appearance. She looks far more like his Zabrak friend Master Koth than the Sith. No one looks like the Sith.

But, for Anakin, he feels great fear. What did Anakin do? Where did he go? What is he thinking? Anakin amazed Obi-Wan with his knowledge of these low-lives. But on his own, in a place like this? With all the street smarts in the world, he won’t last an hour.

I have lost the Chosen One. Qui-Gon would kill me.

Nevertheless, the bold knight tuts and laughs. “You would love to hear our master plan, wouldn't you? Ah. I pity you all for what's about to happen to you and your little tournament.”

The Rodian hits him again.

“Alright, then,” says Obi-Wan, grimacing. “If you want answers, you'd better bring in your boss. I'll only talk to Knightkiller.”

“Not likely,” the Ithorian responds. “You'll only fight Knightkiller once you’ve defeated all the others. So many of our athletes are paying through their noses for the chance to kill you.”

“In that case, please do drop a line if my Padawan turns up.”

The guards leave, irritated.

A minute later, they return, now practically hysterical.

“Alright!” yells the Rodian. “Something IS up! Where's the girl, Jedi?!”

“What girl?”

“Juna's Padawan!”

“Goodness gracious. Can't you keep a better eye on us?”

The Rodian moves to hit him again, but stops since he doesn't seem affected. “We know you're behind this.”

“It's almost like the most highly-trained warriors in the galaxy can just slip through your nasty little fingers.”

She hits him again.

“The teachers will pay for their students' disobedience,” says the Zabrak, who pulls the other two guards out of the room and slams the door.

The warriors beside Obi-Wan have gone quiet, intimidated by his taunting, in awe of his unknown abilities and those of the other three Jedi. Obi-Wan wonders how long that awe will last, if he can't escape as the clearly more competent children did.

Suddenly, the door to the arena opens up. He hears the crowd chanting his name. When he steps out, his arm shielding the brightness from his eyes, they all cheer for him. He feels disgusted to be a source of admiration for people like this, for doing the worst thing in the world. The sand underfoot is congealed with spots of blood. An attendant hands him a clean sword.

As the announcer speaks, and Obi-Wan's eyes adjust to the light, he sees that his opponent is that boyfriend-killer Tiango. The Mandalorian flexes and poses for the audience, but they are not swayed in their support for Obi-Wan.

In the same chair on which they had bound Anakin, now they have bound Master Juna. Where Anakin was terrified, Juna is peaceful, even content. She is a tall, large, fuzzy alien, a Lollian. Centuries ago, so he’d been told, her fur was bright orange with brown stripes, but he has only ever known her to be gray and silver. One of the two horns curling around her head is broken, but that was not from this death game; it has been like that as long as Obi-Wan can remember. The woman seems entirely unfazed and unharmed by the experience. He knows this cannot be remotely true, and yet she hides her pain so well -- or else, the Force is so strong with her that she sits on a plane of existence above it all, unbothered. She nods at him and he feels as one blessed.

Obi-Wan instinctively reaches out for his own master. The years of physical peril and spiritual confusion in the life of a Padawan trained Obi-Wan to reach out to Qui-Gon as an immediate reaction, utterly replacing his natural fight-or-flight instinct, the ways of the Jedi overcoming evolution itself.

But of course he cannot reach him. Grief strikes him harder than any of these crooks could, harder than even any Sith could.

He's got to replace that instinct himself, this time; he's got to do it himself. There's someone else he has to reach for now, someone who feels entirely different, strange, and small, still smarting from a bad first impression. And -- more than that -- he, Obi-Wan, has got to be ready for Anakin whenever Anakin needs him, for whatever, just as his master was for him. The weight of this responsibility could crush the young man.

Anakin is here in the audience. Obi-Wan can sense his presence.

Obi-Wan glances over the crowd -- Tiango seems to be posturing still -- but he can’t locate his Padawan. Anakin seems panicked, urgent. He has seen Tiango kill before, kill someone he cared for. He must be worried Tiango will be too much for Obi-Wan to handle. But Obi-Wan took down several Yoroo Soldiers less than one year ago. Sure, they're not an easy fight, but he knows their tricks; he knows their evil cybernetic enhancements.

Chahlee sends a laser, suddenly, at Obi-Wan, from his blaster-arm. Obi-Wan deflects it deftly, causing the audience to gasp, but the impact bends his vibroblade. Obi-Wan stares at it. He forgot they did that.

* * *

Freed, with the help of Fenn Gallowk and his acid-blaster, on the upper floor of the space station, Anakin knows he needs to hide his Jedi robe and Padawan hair. These people might even know his face. He got lucky with Fenn -- the next person who recognizes him from the Boonta Eve race probably won't give Anakin a chance to talk it out.

Anakin wonders if anyone here bet ON him. He doubts it. But it's a big galaxy, and maybe someone out there took a chance on him.

He remembers Qui-Gon's confident face, and how the man had picked him up to put him into the podracer, and then picked him out of it in the end and carried him on his shoulders. If Anakin is honest with himself, he knows Qui-Gon was, really, the only person who believed in him. His mom, Padme, and Jar Jar had supported him, and hoped beyond hope he would make it out alive. But Qui-Gon was the only one, probably in the whole universe, who believed -- foresaw, even -- that Anakin would win.

No, that's not true. Anakin had believed that too. How could he fail, when they all needed him so badly? When there was absolutely no other way, no choice?

Anakin hurries down the prison hall. The cells are closed on all sides; it is impossible to see who is being kept in them. He hides behind the flap of a garbage chute as a security droid passes; he sits with his back and legs pressed against opposite sides of the chute, careful not to fall down into who-knows-where. It smells awful. He jumps back into the hallway and finds the door to the public area ajar. He pushes his way out and tries to blend in with the crowd, keeping his head down and arms crossed around his blaster and the front of his robe.

Recharging: 3%.

Of all the blasters he could have stolen...

Just around the corner, he sees a big green alien at a desk and, behind them, a coat-check. Anakin ducks under the desk and sneaks into the room full of these criminals’ coats and cloaks. It smells even worse than the garbage chute.

He holds his nose and searches for something bulky, obscuring, and somewhat in his size. He finds a fur cloak, the pelt of a pink monster with its horned face still attached. He puts it on and ties the lower part around his waist so it doesn't drag on the floor. With the hood up, he can hide his own face inside the monster's mouth. He hides the blaster in the copious folds of fur.

Maneuverable? No. Inconspicuous? No. Unrecognizable, and able to hide his weapon? Yes.

Exciting? Yes!

Now he's got to get to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan will know what to do. Even if he doesn't, it's Anakin's duty to be at Obi-Wan's side.

The loudspeakers announce the fight between Obi-Wan and Chahlee Tiango. Anakin feels afraid, and tells himself Jedi do not feel afraid, but it doesn’t help.

He sneaks back out from under the desk and finds two large furry aliens on the way into the arena, arguing with each other and paying no attention to anyone. He sticks close to them and pretends they are his parents. Once the hairy family has entered the arena through this upper-floor entrance, Anakin separates from them and waddles through the balcony seats, trying to get as close to the arena as he can. He sees Obi-Wan and the Mando have already begun to fight. He takes a seat on the floor at the very front of the balcony and holds onto the bars with his shivering hands.

“Come on, Master.”

Chapter 7: Jane

#my story #my art #star wars #knightkiller: anakin and obi-wan's first adventure #obi-wan kenobi #tila juna #anakin skywalker #scifi #adventure

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beyondthecosmicvoid · 4 years ago

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"What you're talking about is manifest destiny."

"You can call it whatever you want, Tom. The fact remains that if the human race needs to do something to survive and lower orders don't have the power to stop us, we will prevail. It is not right ir wrong, it is just the way things are. You've got to stop projecting human motives and es onto other organisms. Everything is merely what it is. A mongoose that tries to steal a cobra's egg isn't evil -- it is just trying to survive. But the cobra is trying to survive too. And if it catches the mongoose in its nest, there's going be a fight. Fortunately for the mongoose, it has faster reflexes and a more efficient metabolism. Whether that's fair or not isn't event part of the equation -- it's simply the way things are."

"Yeah? Try telling that to the cobra. But for the sake of argument, we'll ignore the question of ethics. Still, all you're saying, Scott, is that it's all right to do whatever we want. To exploit any ecosystem, any species -- as long as we don't run into anything big enough to kick our butts."

"If you want to phrase it that way. Yeah. That's the way nature works."

"Sure, on tutoring disks, but not in the real world. Every part of an ecosystem is dependent on every other part. It's that interdependence that makes interfering with existing systems so chancy. Even the smallest components are vitally important."

“Who could have guessed that millions of ‘killer bee’s could spring from a handful of escaped African bees? Or that a few Brazilian fire ants could make the Southeastern portion of the U.S. virtually uninhabitable in just over seventy years? And what about the ‘oil-eating’ bacterium the gene-splicers at the petroleum companies developed to clean up their spills? Remember how they thought they had it completely in their control?”

“Come on, Tom, the oil would’ve dried up sooner or later anyway, and I hear the new repro-inhibitors they’re using are making a substantial dent in the fire ant populations. Sure, we suffer setbacks, but we’ll always find ways around the problems that nature throw at us.”

“Will we Scott? I’m not so sure, mankind never seems to learn. We get our hands slapped on a regular basis, but we still can’t seem to keep them to ourselves. The tighter the grip we try to get on nature, the more nature pushes through the cracks in our technology. And with some of the things we’re encountering in the settlements, we have no idea what kind of trouble we may be letting ourselves in for by messing around.”

“Well, so far we’ve done okay. On all of the life-supporting planets we’ve come across. The worst thing we’ve ever encountered has been the ‘blood willies’ of epsilon INDI TWO. And I hear they’ve got a vaccine for that now. If I were you, I’d put my faith in science and stop worrying about the bogeyman. And I’d watch what I said around the corporate types, Tom. All any of them care about is their jobs, and you’ll make them nervous with talk about problems that don’t exist yet.”

“I don’t care. This is my last long haul. I’m getting out while the getting’s good. All of the monkeying around the corporations are doing out in the settlements may not bother you, Scott, but it does me. We’ve had a long run of good fortune –longer than we’ve deserved there’s a major league turd coming down the pike, mark my words--- and I don’t want to be around when it hits the fan. I’m telling you, we shouldn’t be messing with mother nature. She’s a real bitch. We have to learn to work with nature. This reliance on technology is getting to be too much for me, Scott. It’s no longer a means to an end. It’s become an end unto itself. We use it like a wall between ourselves and our surroundings … between ourselves and who we really are. We’ve come a long way in the past three thousands years but I can’t help feeling that we’ve lost as much as we’ve gained.”

“So what’s your solution Tom? Give up modern convenience and go back to stone knives and squatting in caves?”

“You’re reaching for extreme again, Scott, but that just might be what it takes to put us back on the right track. And I’m not talking about austerity or deprivation. I’m talking about the challenge of putting away the crutches of our technology and going back to relying on our own strength and cunning. These days we’re so insulated that we make heroes out of anyone who dares to face up to a challenge. But it wasn’t always like that. Life of death challenges used to be an every day thing and real men didn’t wait for adventure to come to them. They rushed out to meet it not like the generals and corporate heads these days who send out the little guys to do their dirty work. It used to be that a man’s standing as a leader was determined by how he handled himself in the face of danger.”

“Yeah, yeah – very nostalgic, Thom. Very macho. But it’s not very practical in this day and age. Can you see a bunch of corporate VPs duking it out for the right be CEO? Or maybe you and me going at each other with knives to see who gets a better pilot’s rating?”

“Hey, every culture observes its own rituals for establishing status. Look at the infighting and back-stabbing that goes on at every level of our society. And we’re still fighting over the same things: property, leadership, territorial rights. The only difference is our methods have become more subtle, less direct. Somehow the old ways seem more honest.”

“You’re an idealist, Tom. What happens when the wrong guy wins? Then you’ve got the neighborhood bully calling the shots: You’re back to pack mentality.”

“There are checks and balances in every system, Scott.”

“Yeah, but your way leaves them all up to individual initiative! Without some kind of sanctioned avenue for dissent. A guy would have to be a real hero or a real fool to butt heads with the chief.”

“So? Are things really so different for us? You’re the one that’s always telling me to watch what I say around the desk jockeys. Where’s my ‘sanctioned avenue for dissent’? At least if I bust a gay in the chops, he clearly understands that I don’t like what he’s doing.”

“There you go with your idealism again. You’re trying to romanticize this into two tigers brawling to determine dominance or rights to a favorite hunting area. In the same situation humans would just kill each other. We’ve ‘out-grown’ the instinct for species preservation that prevents that in the lower orders but we haven’t truly grown into the morality that you’re so fond of citing, Tom. The society we’ve built isn’t perfect. Granted. But it works, probably more because of our level of technology than in spite of it. How many guys wouldn’t want to trade their boring, earthside job for yours: a job made possible by technology? But if you want to get back to nature, there are ways to do it. Go on one of those ‘wilderness’ safaris to Alpha C. I understand the gene-splicers now have something that almost looks like an elephant. Or, if you want real adventure, sign on for a hitch as a ranch hand at our next stop; plenty of fresh air, hard work, and not much else. Maybe that’s your idea of fulfillment. Though I can’t imagine anyone envying you the job. Me, I can get enough adventure from the vids. God bless modern technology!”

(...)

“You’re awfully quiet, Tom. What’s the matter? YOu mad at me?”

“Huh? Uh, no Scott. I was just thinking.”

“Look, I know you said it as a joke. But maybe I should go on one of those safaris or sign on as a ranch hand. Maybe it’ll turn out that you’re right, and I wouldn’t like it. But I should at least give it a try. A change of scenery might be just what I need ... Get back to the land and living things ... Get some adventure and uncertainty back into my life. Did i ever tell you that I went hunting once? I had an uncle who was wealthy. He took me qual hunting when I turned fifteen -said it wuold make a man of me. But all I could think about was how big my shot gun was, and how small the birds were. I guess I oculd understand the potential for excitement in the hunt, but for me the thrill was missing. The contest seemed so lopsided. I wondered what it would be like to hunt something that was capable of hunting me. The challenge. The Danger. To put yourself on an equal footing with nature, that’s got to be the ultimate thrill! To risk everything on your own skill and strength ... I mean, look at what we do for a living - access the computer, punch a few buttons - all of the work is done for us. Anybody could do this job, with the right training. I guess that’s what I meant by m anti-technology tirade. It’s not that technology is evil in and of itself - but once in a while we have to put it aside and do something to remind ourselves that we’re alive - prove that we can accomplish something by relying solely on ourselves. I can’t help but think an experience like that would change a person. Maybe not in a way that other people would notice, but it would be something you’d carry with you for the rest of your life.”

“I know what you mean, Tom. Kinda like the first time you get laid, right? Did I ever tell you about that? I was at this party, see, and ...”

“Oh, brother ...”

~ Conversation between Tim & Scott from ALIEN VS PREDATOR #1

^It’s this type of existentialism that makes Dark Horse comics and other graphic novels set in the ALIENS/PREDATOR universe some of the best stuff in science fiction. It has a little bit of everything. Philosophy, cosmic horror, with occasional degrees of theological abstraction.If Disney wants to add more money to their pockets and wants to be true to their motto of inclusion and so on, keep this universe. Don’t erase it. Everything that it preaches, are in these comics. Not only that, but there is also a diversity of ideas where it subtly criticizes every school of thought via different characters and storylines. These are the types of stories that attract every fan, regardless of what their politics are. It’s entertainment, pure escapism (without preaching or self-serving, shaming BS) and world-building at its finest. And it remains respectful of ALL the ALIENS/PREDATORS films, while still offering something new.

Take Tom and Scott’s conversation here. These are two space truckers, blue collar workers like those from the first ALIEN movie, that are bringing up two very interesting points. They don’t fit into any neat box we assign a certain ideology. BOTH of these guys make good salient points. There is also a reason why the first issue of the AVP series starts with this conversation of technological dependence vs the old ways that Tom keeps going back to. While these two argue to disprove the other’s point and defend their own, we catch a brief glimpse into Yautja (Predator) society. It is a violent hierarchy where might becomes right. This is the type of meritocracy that Tom keeps defending. At the same time, it is also opportunistic and more technological advance to the point that they use their technology and survival instincts to hunt other species they deem worthy. This is done at the back of other species they consider inferior or worth risking for the ultimate hunt to prove their worth. Everything that Scott defends is part of the Yautja culture -with the obvious exception of divisions and over-dependence on technology and a corporate conglomerate controlling every aspect of daily life. Then there are the Xenomorphs (aliens). They are the other that is constantly being used as a coming-of-age rite for the predators, It’s an interest dynamic which hasn’t (yet) been explored in the films. This, among other things, makes this universe one of the most fascinating in the science fiction and horror genre.

#alien vs predator #graphic novels #comics #yautja #predator #alien xenomorph #one of the best openings in comic book history #science fiction #scifi horror

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cavendish-dakota-central · 5 years ago

Text

Inspired by:

I got extremely carried away shaping Heinz into a hero and even more determining what circumstanced could possibly require Perry to need saving X)

Also I interpreted this as an Owca Files style mission and wrote it as an all!human au so I hope you like it

Thanks for this idea, it was a lot of fun to write.

Out of everyone on Owca's team, Perry was by far the most proactive. He had a certain something within him that demanded he take charge. Not that it was bad, in fact- leadership was his strongest attribute.

He had been slow to warm to his teammates, but now that he understood each of them as individuals, he had become fiercely loyal to them as a team. They often warmly joked that Perry's instinct to protect kept them the safest agents in Owca, even accounting for Heinz's -inator mishaps.

Perry was always the first in and the last out.

Lately, Heinz was working on laying off on the (often explosive) gadgets and learning to trust his OWN instincts- per Owca's request.

At first, it was incredibly difficult for him. Heinz had learned early on in his life that his instincts weren't very good at all. They caused him to act without thinking and his tendency to ramble often got the better of him. People didn't typically like those qualities, and he felt he had worked too hard to mess up his shot with Owca now.

Nevertheless, he had decided to try it. Perry's faith in him made Heinz want to try and to become better.

It was very nearly his worst mistake yet.

The team had run into a warehouse, blind. Perry had raced in ahead of the others to make sure the area was safe to enter.

The team was on the trail of a dangerous villain whom they'd been chasing through the city for the last several days.

This villain they were chasing was someone so dastardly, and who ignored the evil code so blatantly, that even Love Muffin had exiled him. He, in short, enjoyed overriding the minds of other evil scientists and using them as pawns in his twisted game. He worked them to the brink of exhaustion, forcing them to build him powerful weapons. Now that they finally found him, there was no time to waste.

The team of five sneakily lept in through a window in the roof, but the moment their feet hit the floor, the room began to fill with a masking smoke. It was still early evening outside, but the sunlight couldn't reach into the windowless room. In seconds, the agents found themselves unable to see their own feet through the thick mist.

"Perry?! Maggie?!" Heinz called for his teammates. He heard the sharp voice of Maggie calling back 'Here!' and a relieved bit of laughter from Harry, the pair barely visible to his left. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he quickly recognized Karen's sauve but unconcerned figure just over his right shoulder.

"Alright, that just leaves Perry," he commented, troubled not to have heard from him yet. He tried to push away the uneasy feeling. After all, he was sure Perry was plugging the source of the fog.

He felt his theory had been confirmed as the fog began to clear and he saw the familiar, well-dressed man standing just across the room. His bright teal shirt and brown vest were easy to see through the dissipating clouds.

But there was something amiss about him.

Perry abruptly began walking towards them- but his pace wasn't right. His body was too stiff and the orange shoes Heinz occasionally mocked him for wearing weren't slapping against the ground in the usual way he had grown accustomed to.

"Uh... everyone?" He grabbed the team's attention. Maggie and Harry turned to him and Karen even spared him a glance, "Take a step back. Mmmmm... maybe two."

His gaze stayed fearfully transfixed on Perry.

The agent was closing in. The gentle gleam in his blue-green eye missing, leaving them lackluster.

"Hey, Perry," Heinz chuckled nervously, "how are you! Did you happen to get a haircut or something because I could swear that-"

"His hat!" Maggie suddenly called out.

The band around Perry's hat was a different color- that was the difference Heinz had picked up on. Owca agents had bands around their hats with a unique identification sown into them. Instead of his usual brown-red band, a completely black ribbon was in its place. And the band was most likely the device now taking over Perry's volition.

Karen suddenly snapped to attention, her fists raised and green eyes narrowed.

Heinz tried to mirror her, but he already knew he was at a loss. He didn't have any gadgets left on him, per Perry's recommendation, and he certainly couldn't win at hand to hand combat. Years of experience had proven that much to be true.

"Oh, of all the times to be a good guy. I spend YEARS creating traps and -inators to take this guy down and then the ONE TIME I NEED THEM-" he ended with a defeated sigh. He quickly settled on a different approach,

"Perry, now hold on a minute! We're your friends!"

The other agents faltered as well, exchanging indecisive looks. Not only did none of them want to fight their friend, but none of them wanted to fight Owca's number one agent. Heinz had fought Perry for YEARS before joining Owca and had won roughly once out of hundreds of battles. Even with four of them, those weren't excellent odds. They didn't want to hurt him either.

Their fearful eyes must have ignited something in their team leader because suddenly Perry stopped.

The control seemed to let him go. His bright eyes widened and looked over the four in unprecedented, overwhelming confusion.

"You're going to be okay!" Heinz promised, reaching out with one shaky hand.

For a moment Perry looked relieved, like he had woken up from a terrible dream to find reality untouched. He took a step forwards and then winced, freezing in place immediately. His kind smile twisted into an agonizing grimace. His worn, skilled fingers clamped down on either side of his head and in a single agonizing moment, he collapsed limply onto the cold floor.

"Perry!"

Heinz raced to him, but the sight of a new figure appearing out of the subsiding fog stopped him. The newcomer was tall and elegant looking. He wore a perfectly tailored white suit and held a shining remote in one well-manicured hand.

"He's a strong one, I'll admit," the man's voice hummed in a cold, uncaring tone. He looked down his nose at Perry and turned the dial on his remote.

Perry quickly climbed back to his feet, standing at attention, his eyes once again empty. It felt like a knife through Heinz's chest to have Perry's eyes look right through him.

The ex-evil scientist faltered. The other agents prepared themselves, squaring up for a fight, but Heinz did no such thing. He simply took a determined step forwards.

"Let him go!" Maggie demanded.

"You think he's strong, just wait until we get our hands on you!" Heinz threatened through gritted teeth.

The man only laughed with a lightheartedness that conveyed nothing more than mockery,

"You won't- get a hand on me that is. Not as long as I have him. Consider him my hostage."

"What would he want he want us to do?" Maggie asked Heinz.

The scientist's provoked rage suddenly washed away as his teammates looked to him expectantly. It was true, Heinz knew Perry the best- but he didn't think like him. He didn't have Perry's skill or experience as a good guy. He wasn't naturally sharp-witted or focused. And he certainly didn't have Perry's instinct to know what to do....

All at once, Heinz realized something more. It was true, he had been failing to live up to who Perry believed he could become- but that was okay. He did have instincts, they were just different. His instinct was to adapt, and that took failing before he could succeed.

Heinz might not know what to do when it came to fighting or making a plan, but years of hardship had taught him that he could always find a solution.

What's more, he had something no other agent did. He had a little bit of evil helping him find his direction. And it was because of that evil that he hadn't ENTIRELY listened to Perry's advice. He still had a gadget or two left on him and that was all he needed. He just had to get creative.

Heinz cleared his voice and stepped forwards confidently.

"I have to say, it looks like you've got us. I mean, taking one of our own to use against us?" Heinz gave a falsely wholehearted slow-clap and let it ring through the empty room, "That's just not something just ANYONE can accomplish."

"Th...thank you?" The man in white answered with a baffled head tilt.

Heinz continued, gaining traction, "As an ex-member of Love Muffin I can't AGREE with your methods per se, but as a scientist of my own, I just have to know how you do it before you lock us away or enslave us for your own schemes. And anyways, you must have some triumphant dialogue planned!"

"I... I suppose." The mind-controller replied, "I've been waiting for the right nemesis but I have been dying to explain."

"Explain away!" Heinz insisted energetically. He slowly approached the figure and his army of mind-controlled guards as he spoke. He passed Perry without sparing him a glance.

He continued, trying not to let his voice waver,

"I mean, something to transmit that kind of signal to so many people would need to be incredibly powerful, but you would also need to keep it near you at all times," Heinz prodded.

"Well, I won't go into the details," the evil-doer blushed at another taking an interest in his work, "but it's quite simple really. I keep it all powered through my watch right here!" He held up his wrist. On it, was a massive chunk of metal with numerous controls all over it, "I am able to control the minds of each of my subjects with the simple press of a button!"

"Well it's a shame I won't be able to learn more before the obvious, taking over the tri-state-area and all that fuss," Heinz replied, acting as disappointed as possible by the prospect. Fear was gnawing at his chest but he refused to give in. He couldn't afford to if he wanted this plan to succeed.

He confidently reached out for a handshake and- caught up in the moment- the villain did the same.

Heinz grabbed he man's hand tightly and, with his other, produced a small, handheld -inator out from his pocket.

The -inator didn't have much of a name nor did it function at all like it was supposed to. Heinz hadn't NECESSARILY counted it as a gadget because it wasn't intended for Owca work nor evil. It was, simply, SUPPOSED to recharge the team's communications devices. However, it didn't work yet and instead, one blast from it had overheated Perry's phone so greatly that it melted on the spot just a few days prior. Perry had blatantly shunned him for several hours afterwards, so the incident was still fresh in the scientist's mind.

Sure enough, Heinz's scheme worked perfectly. The moment the -inator's blast connected with the bracelet, it began to overheat.

"Ah! Hot!" The villain immediately panicked. He unlatched the watch and tossed it to the ground. He rubbed his wrist with his other hand, relieved, and watched the bracelet crackled and spark until it became a puddle of half-melted medal.

The evil man let out a sigh of relief before he opened his eyes once more to see a cunning smile beaming away on his enemy's face.

"Oh.... damn...." he realized.

Heinz punched him square in the jaw, knocking him out cold.

The guards who had been under the villain's control immediately became aware of their surroundings and asked each other what was going on to little avail.

By the time Heinz made it back to his team, Harry was holding a barely conscious Perry upright. The black band fell from his hat and softly to the floor.

Karen aggressively smashed it under her boot.

Heinz ignored everything happening around him and focused on the gently-opening blue eyes of a particular secret agent. His long, boney fingers carefully cupped under Perry's sharp square jaw.

"Are you okay?"

Perry gave a weak thumbs up with one hand and then shakily stepped up to throw his arms over Heinz's shoulders. The scientist's long arms caught him and his tall frame leaned down to hold Perry so tightly Heinz was almost worried he would crush the smaller man. After a moment, Heinz felt Perry smile as the famous agent buried his face against his old nemesis's neck.

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll stick to my gadgets from now on."

Perry gently shook with silent laughter and replied by hugging Heinz even tighter.

Heinz let out a small breath and lowered his head onto Perry's shoulder. He chuckled with relief of his own, "I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume you agree."

#i added a keep reading bc it's a little long #and i didnt want to clutter things up #phineas and ferb #owca files #owca #owca files fanfic #pnf #pnf fanfic #perry the platypus #perry the human #heinz doofenshmirtz #perryshmirtz #not exclusively perryshmirtz but their relationship is a main plot point and #thus I will tag it as such #karen the cat #harry the hyena #maggie the macaw

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incorrect-spiderson · 5 years ago

Note

Prompt 6 and 31 with Peter and Harley being brothers and dork 💜 and I wanted to know for how you have been writing? 💕

My boysssss!!! Anyways I have been writing for about 5 years?? It’s always been a passion of mine and I’m just now getting pretty good at it! So yeah!

Also, I wanted to explain a nickname that Harley uses for Peter! He calls him Peanut Butter because of his initials! P. B. P. I just thought it would be cute. Aaanyways enjoy!

🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁

If it was up to Pepper, they would be having date night on Christmas Eve. Just her and Tony, doing adult things. Though, she can’t ignore her momma bear instincts. She doesn’t want the kids alone on Christmas. Or ever, for that matter.

“HARLEY DID YOU PUT HAIR DYE IN MY SHAMPOO!”

That was her cue.

Pepper sets down her wine glass and starts towards the stairs. She drops the blanket off of her shoulders and goes after her boys. With each step she can more clearly hear their fighting.

“Pink looks good on you Peanut Butter.”

“Harley you absolute ass!”

“Oh it’s not that bad.”

“You’re the reason Santa even has a naughty list!”

“Really is that the best-”

As soon as Pepper opens the door, both boys freeze. Harley smirks triumphantly, leaning against the boys’ shared bunk bed. His ugly sweater reads “Santa’s favorite Ho”. Pepper turns to Peter and bites her lip. Her eyes widen and she tries (and fails) to hold back a chuckle. Peter is only wearing Morgan’s bright yellow banana towel. His pink curls clings to his face as he scowls at Harley.

Peter perks up a little bit and points to Harley. “Mom he dyed my hair pink! He is so, so lucky I’m going to pride in a few weeks otherwise I totally would have-”

Harley scoffs and pushes off of the bed. “Petey-Pie you wouldn’t’ve hurt a fly. Also, last week you filled my pillow with whipped cream.”

“The fly didn’t dye my hair pink! And the week before that you-”

Pepper holds up her hand and raises an eyebrow. The boys continue to go back and forth. Every few seconds, Pepper drops a finger. Peter catches on first and instantly stops.

“What? You ready to finally admit defeat PB?”

Peter slaps Harley’s arm and points to Pepper. Harley moves to hit him back but freezes. Once Harley realizes she’s on her last finger, he instead drops his hand and sighs. “Sorry Mom.”

Pepper smirks. “Okay, now that that’s settled, Harley go and check on dinner for me. Maybe start making the gravy. Peter go and help your dad set up the Christmas tree. He’s too short to get the star on the top without a ladder and you can walk on walls.”

Both boys sigh but mumble out agreements. Before Pepper leaves she peaks back through the door. “Oh and Petey... put on some clothes. It’s cold outside.”

Peter’s face instantly turns red as he sputters. Harley sprints out of the room in a fit of giggles, narrowly avoiding the pillow thrown at his head.

Pepper chuckles and shuts the door. Her boys truly are... something.

When May had passed away, they took Peter instantly. She can clearly remember the night when Peter showed up on their doorstep. It was storming outside, rain had been pounding against the window so hard she almost missed the knock at the door. Tony had been upstairs with Morgan, so she naturally answered it. What she hadn’t been expecting was the red, tear stained, soaking wet face of Peter Parker. Who had been clutching a familiar green sweater and a pair of circular glasses like his life depended on it.

To say the least, it had been a very, very long night.

Harley’s situation hadn’t been much better. Her and Tony had been watching Deadpool late at night when he got the call. Pepper couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but she could tell by the worry creases forming on Tony’s face that something was wrong. Suddenly, Tony had shoved the phone towards her while he pinched his nose to fight back tears. When she answered, to say she was surprised would be an understatement.

Harley had been in hysterics. She could barely tell what he was saying over his sobs. Until suddenly, his words had become crystal clear.

The Keeners were dead. Harley had been out with friends while his parents and little sister were grabbing ice cream. His family never made it home. In the same night Tony had gotten on a jet, flown to Tennessee at breakneck speeds, and only two hours after the call Harley was in her arms crying his heart out.

They’d both been through so damn much. Through things that teenage boys should never have to go through. Horrible, terrible things that people only hear about on the news and then never think of again. Every day she marvels at how much strength they both have.

“HARLEY KEENER I KNOW YOU DID NOT JUST STEAL MY COOKIE! GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE-”

Pepper smiles. She couldn’t be happier that they’re here. The tragedies were awful and she wishes every day that they would have never happened. But now, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She loves her two boys with her entire being.

Pepper starts down the stairs, lazily sighing at the thought of getting back into her book and taking a sip of wine. She’s about half way down the stairs before she freezes.

Two boys.

Two of three kids.

Shit... where’s Morgan?

Pepper jogs back up the stairs and opens the door to her daughter’s room. She scans it quickly and then frantically moves on. She searches every room upstairs twice. Pepper gets ready to call for Tony when it hits her.

Literally.

“Ow! Shit..”

Pepper rubs her head where the Ironman action figure hit her. She gives a pained smile down to her little girl and shakes her head. “Sweetheart, if you throw things, please make sure they’re soft? Okay?”

Morgan’s face screws up in confusion. “But Momma, Ironman was wearing a tutu! Tutu’s are soft!”

Pepper glances down at the toy and realizes. Yes. Ironman is wearing a tutu. A bright pink tutu with little yellow and red sequins on it. Pepper picks up the toy and hands it back to Morgan. The little girl takes the toy and then wraps her arms around her mother’s neck.

Pepper sighs and lifts her daughter into her arms. “You’re lucky that you, little gremlin, happen to be acting more mature than your brothers right now.”

Morgan giggles and taps the action figure on Pepper’s shoulder. “Momma I always act more mature-er than them. They’re teenagers.”

Pepper laughs and starts down the stairs. “You aren’t wrong, gremlin. I think-”

“Oh god.. OH GOD! MOM HELP!”

Suddenly, everything else falls away. Pepper’s instincts take over and she’s racing down the stairs. She grips Morgan a little tighter and as soon as she hits the bottom of the stairs she sprints towards the living room. She’s .2 seconds away from calling her suit, then she pauses.

She had been expecting a lot of things. Burglars, Aliens, Ultron reincarnated. Hell, evil snowmen wouldn’t have been too surprising.

What she wasn’t expecting was her husband to be tangled up in tinsel while her son (who is stuck to the ceiling) is keeping the tree from falling on top of her tinsel-ified husband. Peter looks up (or is it down?) from his perch and sheepishly smiles.

“So uh... we had a slight problem.”

Pepper let’s out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She puts Morgan on the ground and moves towards her husband. Tony smiles up at her mischievously.

“Hey hot stuff. All I need is a bow and-”

“Shush and let me get you out of there.”

After a few minutes of light bickering and un-tinseling, Tony is free. She helps put the tree back in place and turns back to Morgan.

“Sweetheart, it seems like you’re also more mature-er than daddy too.”

Tony’s face morphs into fake disgust. “Are you feeding our daughter lies? Pepper Potts-Stark, I thought you were better than that.”

Pepper just waves him off and starts towards the kitchen. “Whatever honey! Just try not to...”

Once again, Pepper freezes.

Harley is standing over the gravy. With green food dye. He spins to face her and his eyes widen. He glances back and forth from her to green gravy.

Once again, Pepper takes a deep breath. “Harley... Keener. Please. Please tell me you did not dye the gravy green.”

Harley purses his lips. “Well, I was raised not to lie-”

“BULLCRAP”, Peter chirps from the living room.

“- but yes. The gravy is now green.”

Pepper blinks. It’s just one thing after another with her family. “Okay, well... everyone come eat. Food is ready.”

Within two minutes the entire family is seated at the table with their plates piled high with food. Pepper sets the gravy on the table with a sigh.

Peter snickers. “Harley I knew you liked Green Eggs and Ham but this is a bit overboard.”

Harley rolls his eyes. “Coming from Pinkie Pie-”

“Harley I swear-”

Pepper sighs. “Boys. Do I have to start counting?”

Both freeze. They look at each other and then at the ground. “No mom.”

The table falls silent as everyone digs in. The peace doesn’t last long though. Does it ever?

“Oh.. oh god. Bleh! That’s nasty.. Pep what did you put in this?”

Pepper holds up her hands in surrender. “I went by the recipe. Harley on the other hand...”

Harley gasps in feign innocence. “Mom! How dare you accuse me of-”

Pepper raises an eyebrow. Harley pauses for a moment, then sighs. “Okay fine I may or may not have accidentally dropped the cinnamon and it may or may not have gotten on the food.”

Peter tips back his chair and groans. “Harley are you trying to kill me?”

“Not yet.”

“Well don’t feel bad,” Tony sighs, “you didn’t completely ruin Christmas dinner. There’s still this... jello stuff.”

“Yeah!” Morgan squeals. “It’s got marshmallows and fruit and everything in it!”

Pepper takes in the laughing faces of each family member and smiles. Their family is far from perfect. Very, very far.

But, even though they might be the strangest family on the planet, she wouldn’t change a single thing.

🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁

Bonus:

🎶 “DECK THE HALLS WITH WEBS FROM SPIDEY”

“Peter, I beg you, stop. You’re hurting my poor Tennessee ears.”

🎶”THWIP THWIP THWIP THWIP THWIP, TWIP TWIP, THWIP THWIP”

“Mom make it stoooop.”

“Harley he’s expressing himself”

“I don’t think expressing yourself through torture is a good thing”

🎶 “DON WE NOW OUR BI APPAREL”

“I give up. Morgan, wake me up when I leave hell.”

“Okay.... What’s hell?”

🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌🎁🦌

AHHHH THIS WAS SO FUN!!

I would love and appreciate some feedback from y’all! Hope you love this!!

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eyeslikefoxglove · 5 years ago

Text

Episode 14 - WangXian are a (v soft) Battle Couple & Foxglove is hella mad

Hi! Welcome to episode 14. I should be studying. It’s day two of morning runs, so my soul has left my body already, send help. Yesterday I went to buy plants with my mum and got so excited I just whacked on a bunch of eyeshadow because I haven’t seen the outside in weeks, I’m also wearing makeup today, because I have nowhere to go, but I really need to finish this bb cream before it goes bad, so my parents are getting my full fresh faced “woke up like this and put on mascara” routine (which is a fucking lie because I’m wearing at least three blushes and two highlighters). I’m determined to get this bitch down in under five minutes so I can have another five to do eyeshadow, I have way too much eyeshadow to not wear it (I have way too much everything except maybe mascara and eyebrow stuff).

Yes, if y’all were wondering I am in fact a makeup magpie. ANYWAY BACK TO THE ACTUAL THING WE ALL CAME HERE FOR.

(Btw further down I discuss once again how shitty I think the Yunmeng sibs’ parents are if that causes an issue for you)

Ok ok ok, so I was talking with damnpoe-2187 here about how we found that sometimes WWX crossed from gremlin into asshole when he tried to get LWJ riled up. Like in the Cold Springs, putting our shippers hearts aside, that was a dick move and he should have stopped undressing the second LWJ went from annoyed to incredibly uncomfortable. I find this scene the complete opposite, a show of character development if you will. It is kind of similar in that they’re both hurt, and alone (although this time is much more serious) and there was some undressing going on; however WWX here behaves like a fool in love considerate person and knowing how uncomfortable LWJ already is tries to make it easier for him. They’re also super soft and I’m weak.

A brief interlude from my one track mind: That pond is full of corpses isn’t it? Or at least the remnants of the Murder Turtle’s meals I suppose. Damn right WWX should not have gone into the water with an open wound, but think no one should go swimming in there without a full hazmat suit tbh (I want to pump them full of antibiotics at this point ngl)

So I love this tiny montage (is it even a montage) of the, getting themselves ready to kill the Murder Turtle.

Teamwooooooork.

Listen, I have read a few fics in which their mind-meld stays in place due to reasons and I need me more of those.

Ok, turtles don’t work that way, but then again, giant murder snake-Trex-turtle so that’s low on my list of priorities. What’s not low is the fact that this guy is knee deep into pretty much a mass grave and I want to take a few showers just watching him.

Yeah, I know exactly what he’s smelling and suddenly I hope I don’t have meat for lunch today tbh.

The screaming sword has always been fucking creepy and does LWJ’s fist clench mean that he’s also hearing them?

BATTLE COUPLE! BATTLE COUPLE! BATTLE COUPLE!

So I know killing the thing took them something like six hours. And while it feels quite a long time in the show, I think that, if they cut the scene with idk, JC running towards Lotus Pier, then back to them, then back to JC, but now the sun is in a different position, back to them, but now the blood from LWJ’s hand has dripped down his arm; and so on a so forth it’d convey more clearly how long it took for the Murder Turtle to die. I know fuck all about cinematography tho so feel free to ignore all this if it is in fact an abomination.

Tiiiiiiny interlude here to say that Yiling Patriarch!WWX is probably one of my favourite character archetypes. He’s slightly creepy, slightly amoral (smiling while torturing and murdering bad guys is still amoral ok), more than a bit on the Dark Side, cocky, smirky, a bit of an asshole a BAMF, a rebel with cause and yet he will still do the right thing, not despite his nature, but because of it. He’s kind of like a Chipped Spike? But you know, he doesn’t need electroshock to behave.

I just want a fic where he’s this Dark Lord of Evil in everyone’s eyes however the ‘good guys’ take a break from trying to off him because a bigger threat just popped up and they have no choice but to ask for his help. He agrees, keeps being his charming self while also saving everyone’s asses, LWJ is smitten.

TL;DR: The Necromancer is hot. Oh and nobody dare deny LWJ has a Yiling Patriarch kink.

Oh my, this is the part when I always get teary eyed.

WUJI ON A CELLO? DO YOU WANT TO KILL ME?

“Why hasn’t Jiang Cheng shown up and rescued me yet?” THIS IS ALL THE PROOF I NEED THAT WWX IS THE BABY SIBLING.

“Lan Zhan sing me a song”

IT IS HAPPENING, STAY FUCKING CALM EVERYBODY (I’m crying)

That slideshow of their best moments set to WuJi is a masterpiece, and also, it kind of drives home the point of “how tf did we go from flirting during summer camp to this mess”?

(Btw if that’s YiBo humming he’s got one hell of a deep voice)

Ok ok ok, so this moment had me spitting up my tea the first time I watched it. Believe it or not my dumbass thought these people were actually serious with the censorship and we’d get scraps of their actual relationship. Lots of charged moments like in some other western tv shows I’ve seen when two dudes have chemistry but “they’re not gay”, no longing glances, no tender touches, no being unbelievably soft with each other; just you know, amped up, because if I’m not mistaken you can be arrested in China for “promoting the gay”. I mean, they changed the beginning when people insult MXY’s sexuality to insulting his mental health; no one would think “ah yes, the gays are good” when they hear it used as a slur, but they still erased it completely. One of the things I thought they’d fully take away was WangXian, I mean, the into/outro is named Wuji, which, you know, still a mishmash of their names, but not their ship name. It is such a significant part of the story with all the “what’s the song name? Figure it out yourself” that if something were going to give away that they’re married with a kid it would be that. I thought we’d get an artful fade to black BEFORE LWJ would say the name not after. And also, YiBo is enunciating it so clearly that, even with the sound muffled and the blurriness I, who don’t speak Chinese, can make out the two syllables. That’s deliberate, I can say “WangXian” loud and clear without moving my lips too much. At this point in time I must assume someone in charge of looking for censorship violations in the show is a fan and just ignored it.

Censorship person 1: dude, isn’t that a bit too gay, maybe you shouldn’t greenlight it.

Censorship person 2: shut the fuck up, sit here and watch.

*a full rundown of the whole of CQL later*

Censorship person 1: oh my god they’re so in love and they deserve to be happy.

Back to the commentary: I’m sorry but I have a mighty need of a WWX & Peacock friendship ok? This might be me just wanting WWX and LWJ to make other friends besides each other but I think that the Peacock is just bitchy enough to not take any of WWX’s bullshit.

And the Yunmeng bros timing for banter strikes yet again.

That’s terrible quality fake blood btw.

@ Yunmeng disciples: STOP SHOOTING FUCKING KITES PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Oooof even with a change of clothes our boy is still looking rough as hell.

MY LOVELY YUNMENG SIBS BEING SOFT AND HAPPY WITH EACH OTHER.

It hurts my soul that the second JFM starts praising WWX for surviving the Murder Turtle our boy’s knee-jerk reaction is to start praising JC in return. It is instinctive, how many times must this have happened for him to know his brother won’t even get scraps of praise? (Seriously fuck their parents)

It was going so well, I mean, JFM had a point warning him to not say things in anger. But I thought he was going to tell him that it is because sometimes he’ll hurt someone without wanting to, yet, this asshole decided to, once again, remind his kid he thinks he’s a failure.

And here comes Mme Yu who I can only assume had a servant posted at the door to warn her when WWX woke so she could throw some verbal abuse at him. I mean, she must have been missing it.

And JFM’s misogynistic bullshit strikes once again, because why defend ALL your kids when you can insult your wife.

(Every time someone berates WWX for “intervening” I want to scream. I mean, seeing this I can believe why the society as a whole thought genocide was a good idea.)

I love how they use their kids as props in their fight, I mean it’s not like they have feelings or anything. This woman is gaslight-y as hell too “you don’t love your kid because I gave birth to him”, you can’t tell me saying that in front of the son she’s supposed to love isn’t going to hurt him. And she knows it, I mean, besides the Wen attack I’ve never seen her hit the kids (although I very much doubt she hasn’t), so a good part of the abuse must be verbal. There’s no fucking way a person who regularly uses words that way won’t realise where she’s aiming those arrows. Which means to her (to both) the kids are collateral.

But FR, the barely-out-of-adolescence disaster bi necromancer PTSDing all over the place and living in a mass grave was a better parent than any of the current adults in this thing.

Which brings me to another point, Shijie is textbook “the oldest sibling is just another parent” and I’m making myself very angry.

[this is when I start frothing at the mouth and itching to write a modern-girl(and friends)-dropped-in-CQL because someone has to be a positive adult influence in these kids’ lives and it sure as shit ain’t the ones in the actual show.]

CAN WE STOP BRINGING PEOPLE’S DEAD PARENTS INTO THE FIGHT?

*deep breath*

I am going to feed JFM & Mme Yu each other’s spleens. Look, listen, look and listen, let’s first talk about how calmly they lay out the facts of their lives, one is only loved because he’s been brought up in the shadow of his dead parents, the other knows with certainty his father dislikes him and his mother uses him as leverage in marital disputes. When have these two not exploded their emotions all over the place? Fucking never. Yet here they are, talking about this bullshit like some bout of inconvenient weather. They’re used to it!

And now let’s talk about yet again siblings-are-just-extra-parents, with an added pile of WWX’s terrible self awareness that, to the man who brought him up, his worth is due to his dead parents. Again I’m extrapolating, but with the amount of times Mme Yu brings up his parents in such a negative light I refuse to believe JFM hasn’t made all the “you’re so much like your parents” comments to him every time WWX does something right. I mean, telling an orphan about their parents if they ask is a good thing, but WWX seems starved for stories about his them, which leads me to believe JFM refuses to talk about the topic except to make those little comments. What a fucking stellar way to give someone all the trauma if you ask me. May also explain a lot of WWX’s self worth issues if the biggest praise he’s ever heard is that he resembles dead people, yes, people who were loved, but they’re dead, and it doesn’t look like any adult has bothered to go and differentiate WWX from ZSSR&WCZ.

I’m just really mad, despite all the silly anecdotes I put in here my parents are fucking great at parenting, so I know what good parents should look like, and this ain’t it.

Ok, so I made myself angry and I don’t know if I should move onto the next episode now or wait till tomorrow but thanks for reading!

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mdzs live action #foxglove watches cql #foxglove watches the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #yunmeng shuangjie #yunmeng trio #yunmeng siblings #yunmeng bros #Foxglove is hella mad #good parenting? Less likely than you think

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writeradamanteve · 5 years ago

Text

(beautiful and inspiring art by @shrugheadjonesthethird Don’t forget to give her some love.)

Sneak Peek: The Land of Good and Evil

Betty had a passable concept of pain. She’d seen it on humans through the centuries. She knew how to alleviate it with angelic power. She herself had never experienced it, however. Nothing except Hellfire could actually affect her and that sort of thing wasn’t available at the local Home Depot.

Even Jughead never kept that stuff just lying around. He apparently didn’t want anyone getting their hands on it and using it to overpower the angel running the corner bookstore. He stored his Hellfire in the highest mountain peak of Gangkhar Puensum in Tibet, where humans are yet to reach its 24,836 foot high summit. Of course, he had no problem just snapping his fingers and fetching it in 2 seconds—as he did when that one night, he thought some avenging angel was trying to break into the bookstore, but he hadn’t had to use it (it turned out some lush just mistakenly tried to key himself into the store, thinking it was his apartment).

“Might be a great idea to rethink this arrangement,” he had said, a casual edge in his tone as they sat together in what had been companionable silence, her at her writing desk and him from the overhead bookstore loft, booted feet dangling through the railings. It was their first night at the bookstore after the Incident. “You know, given that heaven and hell are out to get us for actively cancelling that little thing called the Apocalypse.”

She had frowned, feeling herself getting upset all over again by this unpleasant topic. “I thought we agreed that the angels were at least too afraid of what God might do if they hurt me.”

He knew her moods far too well and he never liked upsetting her, so he appeared by her desk chair in seconds, having taken his spot on the footstool so that he was looking up and she was looking down.

His little scoff was slightly infuriating, but he distracted from her annoyance by taking her bare foot in his hands and massaging it with skillful ease. “All I’m saying is that nothing’s to stop them from claiming that they came here to hurt me and that you got caught in the crossfire.”

Ordinarily, their kind—angel and demon alike—were immune to touch, so massages do nothing, unless, of course, they allow sensations to permeate. When Jughead got this way, Betty’s default was to allow. She actively had to shut sensations down if she wanted to rebuff him.

After 3,000 years together on this plane, it was difficult to disconnect from him. Even when they were fighting, she couldn’t help but tell him about her day whilst telling him how horrible and conniving he was.

Right now, the gentle circling of his thumb was rolling pleasant waves from her ankle, up to her legs, which was an altogether welcome sensation, but she was fully aware of what he was telling her and she was having none of it. “I told you, you’re staying right here. Now that everyone knows we’re chummy, there’s hardly any point to you and I living in separate spaces. This way is expedient—to the work we do here on Earth, of course. And we don’t have to keep wondering where in the world the other is, so long as we diligently leave each other Post-It notes on the refrigerator door. Besides, it isn’t as if you have a choice. God didn’t restore your old place so you have nowhere to stay.”

He grinned, his hint of fang glinting against the candle light and his unearthly, icy blue gaze staring up at her in amusement. “I’m a demon, Betty. I don’t actually need a place to live.”

She felt pleased by the implication that while he didn’t need a place to stay, he was opting to stay in her bookstore anyway. “Nonsense. We all have our creature comforts. You aren’t immune to it either, ‘else God wouldn’t have given you back your Bentley. If you didn’t love it in the first place, you wouldn’t have kept that car of yours around for so long.”

He shrugged, conceding that point but continuing to massage her foot. “I concede. The Big Guy did elect to give us back the thing we love the most on this earth…your bookstore and my car.“

She arched her eyebrow, to which he replied with a wink. She scoffed.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’ll always be a danger to you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please.” A glass of wine appeared in one hand as she waved away his words with the other. Leaning back on her chair, she appeared to be enjoying the way his knuckles were pressing against the arch of her foot. “We thwarted the armies of heaven and hell and we survived execution. However ticked off the heavenly hosts and hoards of hell are with us, they very well know they are forbidden from killing us by God’s law, and by turn, Lucifer’s law. Even if it weren’t, they’ll be lucky not to shirt their pants coming after us.”

Betty maintained that the little trick they pulled during their respective executions—switching bodies, thereby preventing Betty’s annihilation by Hellfire and Jughead’s by Holy Water—was the best prank of the millenia. Betty suspected God knew everything that had happened, but as was His won’t, His plans were, as they say, ineffable.

Jughead let the argument drop after that, shifting his efforts to the massage, and later to cheekily coaxing her to be more daring about his ministrations.

He didn’t get far, of course. She didn’t let him (the nerve). Betty may be an angel of vice, but she drew the line at indulging him.

So all this meant was—on a fairly objective level, she understood what pain and pleasure was, but she never actually felt pain. She wasn’t even sure if she actually felt pleasure.

But now.

Waking up from an evening of excessive shots of tequila and hot sauce with Jughead, she felt a pounding headache.

Firstly, that she fell asleep at all was highly unusual, considering she hadn’t had to sleep a wink the last 3,000 years.

She could barely open her eyes without crossing them and she felt her groan actually reverberate through her body.

Secondly, she didn’t actually think “Oh, I have a headache!” What she thought was What in the Nine Hells is this?

Draped on a nearby chaise, Jughead was also waking from sleep. “Fuuuuuuuck!”

With his hands clutching his head, Jughead sat up and groaned. “Heaven’s Hemorrhoids, what am I—my head! My mouth. It feels disgusting!”

Jughead’s voice had never sounded so terrible.

Betty tossed a pillow and it went flying to his face. “Please be quiet. You are making it worse!”

They moaned and groaned for about a minute before Jughead looked up from his hands and stared at the table behind her. “Where is all the tequila?”

Betty looked up and noticed the empty bottles that surrounded them. Her jaw dropped. “They’re empty. They’re all empty, Jughead!”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. Where did all of it go? Oh, my loving Satan, my head!” Though Jughead was clutching his head, he stood up, wobbled slightly, but determinedly went to the empty bottles, knocking a few down as he picked one up and sniffed its contents. “These are the same bottles. Where did it--Elizabeth, you don’t think--” He looked at her, eyes widening. “It isn’t still in us, is it?”

Betty couldn’t fathom that they hadn’t expelled it like they had the last 3,000 years. Half the alcohol they’d been consuming over the millenia had been consumed and re-consumed by them thousands of times, and they never forgot to put them back in the bottles after they were done getting drunk. They’d never actually kept it in their bodies.

An unpleasant feeling consumed her gut, and just as she began to get a sinking feeling that the alcohol was permeating her system, she realized in horror that she just very well might throw up.

All over her antique books.

She shot out of her chair, repeating the mantra she would give her customers: Down the hall, two doors to your left.

And when she threw the door open, she instinctively went to the nearest hole, which was the toilet, and hurled.

There’s the tequila.

********************

Suffice it to say, the alcohol was still obviously in their system, and Jughead, in his state of dehydration, went to the nearest bodega, purchased an entire case of bottled water, and sat both him and Betty down to drink it.

“I don’t know what’s happening, but my powers are going haywire and it looks like we need to expel the stuff the natural way,” Jughead said, chugging down one bottle and proceeding to open another. “At least for the meantime. Ugh, the indignity. Here--good, clean water.”

Betty glared at him through her miserable state. “New York water from the tap is the best in the country. Did you have to purchase those infernal plastic things--”

“Spare me your angelic environmental bullshit for the time being and drink up. Are your powers working for you?”

Her powers weren’t exactly cooperating, either, so she grumbled her response and began drinking the water he offered.

She felt her gorge rise again, but she managed to stifle it, stamping away the nausea with a deep breath and a cool gulp of Poland Springs.

Jughead, even with his bloodshot eyes and alcoholic stink, managed to grin. “Who knew you were such a lightweight?”

Betty made a face and stuck her tongue out at him.

He laughed and then sniffed himself. “Holy shit, I stink, Cooper.”

“I’m not feeling quite so fresh, myself. I can’t believe we actually need a bath.”

“Shall we do the environmentally responsible thing and share one?” He winked.

She rolled her eyes but she wasn’t in the mood to argue this point. “If you shut up, then yes.”

Jughead blinked in surprise, no doubt expecting to be shot down. When she didn’t take it back, he pouted. “You’re no fun when you have a hangover.”

#the land of good and evil #sneak peek

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fourangers · 5 years ago

Text

Fate and Choices (ch. 02)

Summary: When Naruto discovered who was going to be his soulmate, he jumped straight at this opportunity, looking forward to spending the rest of his life with his better half. Sasuke well…he was less eager in this regard though. NaruSasu. Soulmates tattoos. M-rated.

Content: AU!Office, Romance, Comedy, Drama, it’ll get a little too philosophical in some parts talking about free will Vs fate, basically Sasuke is a cynic ass and Naruto is an idealistic moron (great amirite), Anal Sex, tattoos soulmates

Chapter 01 here

AO3 link

--.--

“Hey! Jackass!”

Sasuke stiffened, bracing himself from the incoming impact.

“Fucking bastard thought you were gonna get rid of me, ‘s not going to be that easy you know!”

Sasuke was rubbing his legs with a wince; good gracious, years have passed and this idiot continued to be the same loudmouth dumbass. He turned back to Neji. “Please fire him.”

Neji blinked. “It’s my company and I’m the one who hired him Sasuke.”

“I know, but I’m saying that you should fire for our sanity’s sake.”

“Wow, that’s so mean.” Naruto grumbled, widening a grin. “You haven’t changed one bit Sasuke. Plus, there’s no way Neji would fire me when I’m the best social media manager you ever met!”

Sasuke rolled his eyes then threw a significant glance towards Neji.

Neji shook his head. “Yes, sorry to say but Naruto is pretty good. He is one of the few I know that can build a good number of followers organically in a short time. I guess you’ll have to deal with it. Just use this opportunity for some catching up ok.” He patted Sasuke’s shoulder and stared at Naruto in deadpan. “Please don’t destroy the office.”

“C’mon Neji, you really think we’re gonna get back to fighting as if we’re twelve? Give me some credit will you.” Naruto’s grin became so wide that it reminded him of a cheshire’s cat.

“...right.” Neji looked around, and picked an antique vase on the way out.

Sasuke stared at Naruto and his winsome beam, then gazed at the door knob.

He turned around.

“Oh? Ignoring me and fleeing again? The coward's obvious choice.”

Turning back with a venomous glare, Sasuke approached Naruto. “Well, I suppose there’s no point delaying any longer. What do you want from me?”

The caustic tone dissolved Naruto’s grin into a frown, so he mumbled. “What the hell did I do wrong for you to act like an asshole around me?”

Sasuke inhaled, taking some seconds to recompose himself as he retorted. “You’re right, my attitude was wholly unneeded, but I can’t help it. I still need to know why on earth you decided to reappear in my life when I made pretty clear that I don’t want you around.”

“Good God, I can’t believe that you don’t want your soulmate after this many years⏤”

“Don’t go there.” Sasuke growled through gritted teeth.

“Ugh, fine.” Naruto rolled his eyes. “You know, after what we’ve been through, I thought that at least you would bother yourself to give me an explanation or at least keep some kind of contact.”

“I can’t believe you took seriously our summer fling.”

Naruto stared, and then quirked an eyebrow. “Three years is not a summer fling.”

“Whatever, but it happened while we were young and stupid, so it is a fling no matter how long it took.” Before Naruto could protest, Sasuke interjected in. “Everything was going fine in my life back when you left me alone in peace, so why did you decide out of nowhere to get back in bothering me again?”

Naruto curled down his mouth, examining Sasuke’s indecipherable face as graphite eyes focused glowering at the ground. He knew that Sasuke wasn’t going to be cheerfully welcoming his return though he expected at least some positive reaction.

Scratching his blond head, Naruto sighed. “Sasuke, back when your parents divorced” He could see Sasuke tensing on the corner of his eye but he continued nevertheless. “I really wished you could rely on me to share your feelings about it but you just decided to throw me out of your life. But I respected that this was your way of coping and later I also get why you did that⏤”

“If you got it, why are you here now?”

Naruto blinked and declared with strong assurance. “Because I’m your soulmate.”

“We only have matching tattoos dumbass, nothing else.”

“Only matchin⏤” Naruto groaned. “Oh c’mon, gimme your hand in case you forgot about it.”

“No.” Sasuke held his hand closer to his chest, dodging away from Naruto’s grasp.

“You stubborn bastard⏤”

“Dumbass, get the fuck away⏤” The young men wrestled in the conference room, stumbling through chairs and knocking down assorted papers and pens.

“Sasuke, goddammit, just for a few seconds, I swear!” Naruto yowled, arms stretched out in a vain attempt to reach Sasuke’s hand.

Sighing, Sasuke lowered his arm. “I’ll humor you for once, I guess.” He raised his palm, showing his moon tattoo.

Naruto broadened a victorious smile, interlacing his tanned fingers with pale ones. When their tattoos touched, a warm ball of light grew till it lit up the whole room, but Sasuke dropped his hand, cutting off its connection.

"You felt that right, once again. That wave of happiness, the comfort, contentment. We complete each other.” Breathing heavily, remnants of those emotions overwhelmed him, soulful blue eyes attempted to reach his soulmate.

Sasuke averted his gaze, crafting a blank expression and shrugged. “I disagree with this. Those feelings are probably some kind of animalistic instinct to preserve our species and I’m beyond all that. Why do people keep claiming that they need to find their other half? I’m already one whole person, I’m against the notion that you need someone else to feel complete.”

Raising his eyebrows impressed, Naruto hummed pensive, conceding. "Alright…that's a very fair point. But no matter how complete you are, you need relationships to sustain yourself. Family, coworkers, friends…we're humans that need other people all the time. And isn't it great that nature gave us this tool to find the best companion that will share his lifetime with you?"

"This system is flawed and imperfect Naruto. You know it as well as I do." Sasuke retorted. "And I'd rather not waste my life blindly relying over something that might fail in the long run."

“You're selling a technology that lets people find their own soulmate.” Naruto muttered incredulously.

“I sell the tool, not the satisfaction nor its promise for happiness." Sasuke offered with a prim sniff, chin raised. "And whatever might be my business, it has nothing to do with my personal opinion, in which is that I'm fine not needing a soulmate."

"Why? I thought we were in agreement back then!"

"Which goes back to the talk that we were just young and naive, that's all. I changed my mind."

“Honestly, why are you going so against it, it’s like one of those obvious laws of nature. It’s inevitable, like…" Naruto paused for a second, trying to come up with valid examples. "Like gravity, physics, and everything like…babies would always cry…um…dogs are angels and cats are evil…”

“How dare you, you take back that last sentence right fucking now.” Sasuke growled.

“Alright, maybe cats are also nice, I’ll let you adopt one when we live together!”

“No, thank you. And for every supposed law of nature, it’s never entirely universal. You can use aerodynamics to fly above gravity, cats can save kids and dogs can bite⏤”

“And babies crying?” Naruto chimed in.

“...tiny baby lizards don’t cry.” Sasuke regretted it the instant he uttered these words, he knew that his IQ would just drop if he’d spend one minute more with this dumbass, Naruto is just this infectious. "That doesn't matter. I thought I came here so I could talk about work, not engaging in those childish conversations that go nowhere."

"...so." Naruto smacked his lips and grinned. "I am your social media manager then."

Sasuke stared and narrowed his eyes. "My company's social media."

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever. You have my phone number and Line? It's⏤"

“I know your number, I just have to unblock you.”

Sasuke half-expected Naruto bristling in indignation when he got the confirmation that he was indeed, blocking him out over those years. A crestfallen despair flashed through Naruto’s eyes, before blossoming to a warm smile.

“I’m just glad we’re talking again, that’s all that matters.”

Sasuke wanted to tell him that it’s only work related. That it won’t change his mind and once the contract would be over, they would part their respective ways. Caustic, sharp words had to be uttered so he could end this nonsense at last, but somehow it died on his throat when his whole soul ached to reach Naruto’s face and kiss the pained frown away.

Thankfully, a knock from the door broke their stupor, and Naruto opened to meet Neji and some of Sasuke’s coworkers.

“Well, it seems that their meeting is over. Anyways, Hoozuki-sama, Yamato-sama, Uzumaki Naruto-san here will be in charge of Shinrei’s whole social media account, as well as strategy and planning.”

Naruto and Sasuke’s coworkers shook hands and exchanged name cards, bowing politely as they began the meeting. Suigetsu quirked his eyebrow, noticing how Sasuke always averted his gaze whenever he talked with Uzumaki-san, even though the blond man stared as if Sasuke was the only man in the whole room.

Those were intense, covetous azure eyes that somehow weren't much tainted with lust. Curiosity piqued, Suigetsu dragged his friend to the side while Naruto was talking with the other coworker.

“So…from all the interactions I witnessed, it seems that you and that blondie have some history together right. What happened?”

Sasuke glared. “Nothing.”

“Oh c’mon, just tell me! It’s the first time I ever saw you being so nervous around a guy, whatever happened has to be something big.”

Sasuke sighed, shutting his eyes. He uttered in the most bored tone he could muster. “Naruto is my soulmate.”

Suigetsu blinked. “…huh?”

“My soulmate.” Sasuke repeated. “He’s my soulmate.”

“WHAT?!” Suigetsu shouted, switching his gaze back and forth towards Sasuke and Naruto. “You lucky dog, you found your soulmate this easily?! And he’s hot too!”

“He is?” Sasuke furrowed his eyebrows, then turned around for a quick check. No, that’s the usual dumbass, stupid grin Naruto, there’s nothing new about that.

“God, the fact that you don’t want a soulmate makes even less sense now! I want a hottie like him riding me till tomorrow for the rest of my life.” Suigetsu noticed the black eyebrow twitching in annoyance and curled a saucy grin. “I better get first in line if he’s interested.”

“Whatever suits you best.” Sasuke grumbled, as they all moved back to the entrance, as the meeting was over.

Someone poked his shoulder. “Hey hey. Sasuke.” He turned his face, glare activated but halted at once when he felt moist lips touching his skin. “Have a nice day.” Naruto beamed.

He furiously rubbed his cheek with his hand, growling. “I’m going to kill you.”

“So testy, I just gave you one innocent peck on your cheek.” Laughing, Naruto patted his back while he returned to the office.

Neji observed the grin that stretched from ear to ear and muttered. “Oh dear me. It’s been a while since I saw you smiling this much.”

“Well, duh. Obviously.”

“Hm. You’re satisfied with the arrangement then?”

“Yeah! Thanks for everything Neji.”

“Likewise. I hope whatever conclusion you two will reach, it’ll be satisfactory to you both.” Pearly eyes peered in earnest intensity, so Naruto offered a half-grin back. “But I would like to remind you that Sasuke is our client, right.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Naruto appeased him.

“Don’t go too far.”

“I won’t!”

“Please don’t annoy Sasuke too much, okay.”

There was a long silence and then. “Uh. Sure!”

Is it too late to change his own mind; Neji wondered with a sigh.

⏤.⏤

Six hundred, forty three. That’s the number of times Sasuke had to suppress the urge to throw Suigetsu out of the car, whenever his friend nagged wanting to know more details about Naruto.

He hoped once he arrived in his office, all this nonsense would be over so he could concentrate on his work. Promising gruesome bloody murder if Suigetsu ever dared to gossip about his love life, he strode to Itachi’s room.

“Nii-san.”

“Oh, welcome back otouto-kun. How was the meeting? How is Neji-kun?” Itachi acknowledged him with a quick nod, eyes still focused on the laptop.

“Neji is fine, his marketing plan is really well planned and he is just going to make us cover the basic costs, nothing else.” Sasuke paced around, and said. “Nii-san, you won’t believe who is going to take care of our social media.”

“Oh, Neji told me. I’ve heard that he’s a really bright, young man…” Itachi raised his eyes to meet with Sasuke’s, a knowing beam broadening his lips. “Blond, blue eyes, who has an exquisite sun tattoo that fits with your moon tattoo pretty perfectly…”

“What the f⏤!” Sasuke tamped down the urge to scream, throwing his hands to the air. “I can’t believe you all! You, Neji and Naruto all planned this?! I can’t believe that you would betray me. You’re my brother!”

“And as your older brother, I agreed with Neji-kun that you avoiding Naruto-kun is damaging you in the long run, but considering your stubbornness I thought that it’d be better if I nudged a little in the right direction.”

“Unbelievable. I thought that you, of all people, understood me the best considering the experience we suffered with mother and father.”

Sighing, Itachi stilled in commiseration, picking his tea cup. He sipped the warm beverage, murmuring. “I considered these memories for a long time, but I concluded that I shouldn’t let them deter my life. It’s specifically because of them that I’m determined to find the perfect companionship with my soulmate.”

Sasuke scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, big words from someone who didn’t bother himself to find his own soulmate. You know really well that he or she lives in the Netherlands but you kept delaying buying the plane ticket.”

“…I have…other priorities for now.” Itachi argued with a clipped tone.

“No, you just share the same trauma as I do but since it’s not your problem, you thought you could manipulate however you liked about my own life. It is your loss though, because even if our parents’ divorce may had influenced my opinion about Soulmates, I have valid reasons to reject it.” Sasuke declared, tightening his hands into a fist. “I’ll do this damn job with Naruto just to prove you, and then we’ll go on our own goddamn different paths. Just you wait.”

“…” Itachi studied his younger brother’s agitated state, eyebrows knitted, resolute.

Honestly, Sasuke had already grown old enough to be in any need of his guidance, but above all, he wasn’t really accepting any of it even if Itachi tried to drill any word in his hard-headed mind. From now on he guessed he’d leave it up to Naruto, and he hoped the young man would have enough patience handling his younger brother.

⏤.⏤

Naruto was being…strange. At first, Sasuke expected that the dumbass would use the opportunity that he unblocked his contact to flirt with him, or engage inane conversation or send dick pics. The blond man was oddly very considerate nevertheless, using their chats for strict professional subjects, not one thing out of line.

On the other hand, they had a lot of physical meetings. At first it was only once per week, not arousing his suspicion as Sasuke considered that Naruto probably had a lot of questions that it’d be better clarified with these kinds of meetings. The following week they had twice per week and then thrice. Also, whatever professional courtesy Naruto had respected in chats, was thrown out of the window when he saw Sasuke, trying to start off-topic conversations, sitting really close to him and generally being a pain in the ass.

(Sasuke didn’t want to admit that he was enjoying those meetings)

When Naruto called, ready to schedule another meeting, Sasuke rebutted. “A meeting? Online meeting, you meant.”

“Oh no, like a meeting, meeting. As in, me going to your office or you going to mine and…”

“For someone who only uses online tools for your everyday work, you oddly prefer a face to face meeting for no particular reason.”

“What can I say, I’m a people’s person after all.” Naruto chuckled. “Well, if you’re too busy we can reschedule if you want.”

Sasuke narrowed his eyes. This really felt like some sort of measured chess game, when one man was carefully choosing which pieces to sacrifice or to keep it alive. He expected that since Naruto was so impatient he’d prefer a direct approach instead of slowly luring him in.

“Then again, I haven’t seen him for over seven years, who knows how much he had changed since then.”

⏤.⏤

UGH.

This is so fucking hard.

What Naruto really wanted was to drag Sasuke to some secluded room and have his way until they were both satisfied. But nope, that stupid ass bastard is just too stubborn and suspicious of everything that if he did any sudden move, Naruto was afraid that Sasuke would disappear to some far away country, like Canada or Argentina or something like that.

Was he asking for too much in wanting to have his soulmate back? Was he? He just wanted life to be easier for once. Stupid Sasuke. Why. Uuuuugh. Now Sasuke was already getting suspicious that they were having way too many meetings and Naruto wanted at least some compensation for using all his remaining patience to let Sasuke dictate this fucking slower than slug pace.

He heard the familiar ping, unlocking his phone.

Sorry, just finished a meeting now. I’m going to arrive 15 minutes late.

Oooooh?

Grinning, Naruto noticed Sasuke typing some response but he was quicker.

Uchiha-sama is going to be late? My eyes didn’t deceive me just now, did I really read that?

Moron.

Naruto laughed, thankful that his typing speed was faster than Sasuke’s. I mean, Uchiha Sasuke-sama is actually going to be late for the first time in his life. Wow, it’s going to rain knives today.

It’s not my fault dumbass, the sponsor I was talking with wanted more details about my software. And he’s an old man it was difficult to explain in layman terms.

Ah, yeah…sounds tough. Don’t worry about it, I can wait while I’m working. Thanks for the heads up.

Sasuke snorted, relaxing his shoulders on the taxi seat while he stared at the buildings passing by. Opening a new company was so hard, so many people to visit, so many potential sponsors and clients to sell your product. There were also many annoying obligations to register your company and documentation to smooth things through too. His father gave enough initial investments to help them open the business but aside that, they were really green, unsure what steps to proceed in a shrewd market.

Thanks to Naruto’s strategies their brand is getting recognition between specialists for now, some well-known influencers tested their technology, aiding him to show tangible successes in the effort to convince people. But although they were impressed, few signed the deed, not wanting to risk their precious capital over an infant company.

Exhaling a tired breath, he went to the conference room after he greeted Neji. The moment he opened the door, he immediately picked the nice fragrance of fresh cooked rice.

“Hey. I’m just gonna finish retouching some reports and we’ll start the meeting right away.” Naruto said.

In front of him laid a neat porcelain plate with three onigiris, then a tomato salad inside a plastic package and even Caramel dark chocolate from a fancy brand.

“Oh yeah, feel free to dig in, I bought this for you.”

At this admission his stomach growled and Sasuke licked his lips. “How did you know I was hungry?” Sharp graphite eyes narrowed.

“Well…if I’m not mistaken, you usually eat around 12:30 or something right? Unless you changed your habit, I mean. But it’s already 1 pm, and you didn’t mention stopping a little to eat lunch, so I thought it would be best if I bought something for you.”

…Naruto still remembered all his favorite foods. Warm beats expanded in his chest and Sasuke forcibly tamped it down. This is just residual instinct caused by this soulmating system, it had nothing to do with his feelings. He savored each bite in silence while Naruto gave the monthly report.

Hmph. Dumbass.

--.--

Chapter 03

#NaruSasu #snstext #sn fic #sns fic #drabble

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yamithediaperdork · 4 years ago

Text

The Hero’s new Armor (Legend of zelda)

Zelda smiled as she looked over her kingdom from her balcony, Hyrule was safe and recovering nicely in the wake of Gannon's defeat and everything was returning to normal. and she had her loving and wonderful husband to be to thank for that. however, even as she admired the beauty of the landscape, a yellow and putrid smelling tidal wave started to wash over the land, coming towards the castle and- Zelda sat up with a start, and then looked down at her bed, then over at her sleeping hero. who had wet the bed. again. "Link wake up! you're doing it again!" she growled, grabbing a pillow and hitting him on the head with it. Link, who had been snoring gently around his thumb (he was a total thumb sucker in his sleep, something that Zelda found to be ADORABLE!) he sat up now and glared, then looked down and groaned. "Zelda I'm-" "Save it." she growled. "I know, you're sorry. and you did everything you were suppose to, including not having anything to drink before bed and you don't know HOW this just keeps happening." she huffed. Zelda had tried, she really had, to be understanding the first dozen times this happened. But she was getting sick and tired of being pissed on every night. Link for his part looked like a scolded child, and had his head downcast, his thumb on the edge of his lip. "Oh for din's sake.. come on, we'll get the servants to clean this bed up and find somewhere else to sleep." she paused and sniffed the air. "After a bath." she added and held her nose. naturally it was Impa who answered their call first, and while she had the bedding taken care of she also lead them to a private bath area, having prepared two tubs of warm water. "...You were ready for this?" Link asked in a small voice as he took off his green night shirt. "Well when someone has wet the bed every single night for the past month, one tends to notice a pattern. the sheikah chuckled. "Oh." Link said and slipped into his tub, the warm water filling good and grabbing a knot of soap weed, he began to scrub himself. The princess just glared and huffed, willing herself to calm down, it wasn't really fair to be mad at Link for something he couldn't control but at the same time she was a princess, soon to be Queen and she was getting pissed on like a dirty green rupee whore! sliding her purple night grown off she slid into her tub (they had separate ones as sometimes the warm water made link relax a little TOO much..ugh) she let Impa clean her, relaxing herself as her faithful servant/bodyguard/best friend took care of her, and put her mind to work on the Link problem. She couldn't just dump him.. she loved the blond haired hero with all her heart even if he was annoying at times. They had already tried different potions and brews that were suppose to help, and at best they did nothing, at worse.. she wrinkled her nose recalling the night Link had messed the bed. as the royal consort Link was expected to sleep in her room, though she could always make a excuse for why he wasn't, heck, they had managed to cover up any rumors over the bed wetting so far so Zelda knew the castles servants were trustworthy. Still she'd miss falling asleep while snuggling with Link, with him nuzzling into her almost like a small child or a bab- Zelda opened her eyes and smiled, she knew what they had to do, and was shocked with herself she hadn't considered it sooner. "M'lady?" Impa asked politely. "Finish up here Impa, then you and I have much to plan." She said and smiled over at Link, who was just laying back in the tub, enjoying it and too zoned out to see the almost fiendish look upon his beloveds face. After their baths the couple had been found separated beds, which was disappointing for Link, he found listening to Zelda's breath and heart beat to be oddly comforting but he made due and managed to sink back into a slumber, once again one that was filled with flashes and images from his many battles that he had waged to save the kingdom. Thankfully when he awoke in the morning, the bed was dry. He would of hated to need anther bath and to of been responsible for two pissy beds. getting dressed he had breakfast with the princess, who as usual had calmed down and was kind with her words,then he went off to go and do the morning drill's the palace guards. As the royal consort he didn't NEED to do anything around the palace but Link had taken it upon himself to train the palace guards, so that the next wanna be Gannon would have a hard time of it. After lunch with the guards (Zelda had been busy, and as the princess of a recovering nation, Link understood this) Link went out on horseback with a patrol to sweep up any left over monsters created by Gannon's dark magic.after a scuffle with some Moblins who had been trying to bring back the king of evil with a poorly thought out plan (they had been plotting to steal Gannon's remains even though he wasn't dead so much as trapped) they rode back and washed up, with link dressing in a formal pair of white pants, and a dark blue dress shirt, and taking the time to comb his hair for supper with the court. (Truth be told, he hated this meal and would of rather faced anther 20 Moblins by himself, but it was the way things were done, so Link just put on his best fake smile, was careful to eat in a gentlemanly manner, and try not to embarrass Zelda.) Finally with the dinner over Zelda and Link retired to their bedchambers. the staff, well schooled by now in handling the soaked bedding and the like had gotten the room cleaned up and smelling better and the bed was perfectly dried (though no doubly stained under the satin sheets) "So link, We need to talk about the dodongo in the room." Zelda said, after they had changed to more comfortable clothes. "My..My bed wetting?" Link asked, looking at the floor, cheeks starting to turn red. "No, your habit of dancing in your sleep. of course your bed wetting." Zelda joked, thought chided herself for it. "look, The way I see it, we have one of two choices here. One, is that you and I sleep in separate beds so that when you wet yourself, at least I'm not getting a golden shower." "I..That makes sense, Though I'll miss falling asleep in your arms." Link said with a miserable tone to his voice and his face showed his dislike of that option as well. "what was the other choice?" "Well, The other choice lets us share a bed, though requires you to wear protection." She said, blushing a little herself now. Link blinked, and tilted his head. "I don't think the Zora or Goron tunic would help with this Zelda." he said, rubbing the back of his head. Zelda blinked, then facepalmed. 'how can he be so brilliant at solving puzzles and yet so DUMB?!' she thought. "Not..not quite what I was talking about." She said. As link went to open his mouth she cut him off, trying to save him from making a fool of himself. "I'm talking about diapers link." she said flatly. "...Diapers? as In.. the things babies wear?" Link asked, his face turning crimson now. "well not just babies, some older children wear them till they stop bed wetting and well.." Zelda trailed off. "Oh, so I'm not a baby..just a big child." Link huffed. "Well when you pout like that." Zelda said. "be reasonable Link, it's sleep in anther bedroom without me, and hope this problem clears up before our wedding.. or wear the diapers. would being diapered, just in front of myself, and maybe Impa be THAT much worse then being seen in your pissy clothes?" "well..I mean..I guess not.." Link mumbled. "Good. then strip and go lay on the bed while i go get Impa." "C-Can't we just keep t-this to ourselfs?" Link asked, his voice hitting a high note as he poked his fingers together. "I would if I could but er, I've never actually diapered someone before, while Impa used to change mine..soooo I kinda figure she'd be the perfect choice to show me the ropes you know?" Link gave a tiny nod and started to strip as Zelda went into the hallway, spotting Impa who was waiting nearby with a bag over one shoulder and nodded to her and gave her a thumbs up. Links blush had moved down his neck and to his shoulders as he laid back on the bed, his hands covering his manhood as he looked up at Impa who gave him a warm smile, then set the bag down on the bed. "I'm seen your privates before while attending to your baths. and you'll look funny if I diaper you with your hands down there." She said with a wink, making link blush more and move his hands. Truthfully he was fighting the urge to suck his thumb right now, but figured with what was about to happen it wouldn't look good. Impa was babbling away to Zelda about how to fold the diaper and link just shut his eyes and tried to block the whole thing out. to pretend he was somewhere else. with his eyes closed, he pictured a nice flat farmland and riding on epona and smiled, cooing gently. Zelda bite down on her touage to prevent herself from laughing as link went totally baby zone as Impa lifted up his legs and set the bulky cloth under the boys buns, then powdered him. raising a eye as link's hand moved for his mouth again Impa locked eyes with Zelda, then nodded at the bag as she finished getting Link coated and started to use the heavy set and durable pins to fasten the bulky diaper around the hips of the hero. Link's relaxing ride came to a sudden stop as suddenly his mouth was invaded by a large rubber nipple and link opened his eyes to see Zelda bending down, and smiling and giggling softly. instinctively Link sucked on whatever it was in his mouth, but a downward glance confirmed it, he was nursing on a pacifier! A muffled cry of protest went to come out and link moved to spit the pacifier out but zelda placed two fingers on the mouth guard and tsked softly. "Come now link, we both know you wanna suck your thumb, and this is just cleaner..and besides." She paused, but then grinned and bend down lower and kissed his forehead. "You look VERY adorable." Link suckled on the paci after that, red faced and squirming as he stepped into the tight rubbed pants impa held out for him, the faded purple clung to his hips and Link felt like a over sized big baby. "We'll have to look into getting some in other colors. I want my little prince to be a little rainbow butt." Zelda said, patting link's puffy behind. Link had been about to say something, but as Zelda patted his butt, he barely heard her talking about just how cute his butt was, and just ended up turning himself more into the pats, and getting on his knees and hands on the bed, wiggling his butt. Zelda had just been patting the butt and teasing Link a little to have fun, but when the padded hero of cuteness positioned himself to get more out of his butt pats she found herself grinning ear to ear. This, this had all sorts of potential and for the first time she was VERY glad that her hero, her baby husband to be, had started wetting the bed. The end

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