#“7 inches tall because apparently that matters” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

knullanon · 4 years ago

Text

invincible bullshit that i came up with 10 days ago i just forgot about it

ngaoevnbiaebiw its here @anxiousnerdwritings i hope you like it i got inspired by you to write this

words: 2196

warnings: past arguing, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ENTIRE SEASON 1, shooting, arguing, past manipulation

“Reports of who killed the Guardians of the globe are starting to surface, with our agents finding out about the supposed killer: we know they spared Omni-Man, killed the rest of the members, and then fled. We also know they are not from earth. Lots of people have speculated that Omni-Man is the one behind these killings, however, the government has ruled out that being a possibility, since there was no evidence of Omni-Man doing these actions. More at 7 tonight on-”

The program stopped playing as you saw a contact appear on the top of the screen, and reading it, you immediately perked up.

Swiping on the green button, you happily said, “Hey, Dad! What’cha need?”

You heard a chuckle from the other end, before he said, “Hey kiddo, how you holding up?”

“Nothing much going on here, you good over there?”

“Yup, mostly everything is fine. You know my work, they always have something for me to do.”

“Hopefully that clears up soon.”

“Yeah, hey, listen, where are you right now?”

Ugh, not this again. Your mood slightly dropped as you remembered a few years ago, when you first met Cecil. He wasn’t as good as he is now, and he would always be asking where you would be. Even in school. However, that was all in the past, since you were older, he now knew that you were responsible enough to do things on your own. At least, that’s what he wanted you to believe.

“Uh, well, I was just gonna go hang out with some friends and then go back home. Why?”

“Ok, listen to me very carefully: one of my guys is gonna pick you up near Bridgetown, ok? You’re gonna get a bracelet from them and then I’ll explain the rest here.”

What the fuck? “Oh, um, ok, when will they be there?”

“About 5 minutes. Be there soon, love you, bye.”

He hung up the phone quickly, which was extremely rare, even for him, since he would never show his love to you out publicly and you would feel weird if he even did. However, on the phone or in private he was a completely different person, having a great personality and he was an even better dad.

Well, he did say to hurry up, and 5 minutes. You checked the time and when you saw it was near 1. You strided your way towards the street he told you to meet on, and cheerfully thought of the ways to hang out with your friends after whatever he wanted to do. Maybe you could go to the mall? Maybe the food court? You’ve been meaning to try those damn milkshakes at that new bar everyone is talking about, but it was always so crowded. You never liked crowded places in the first place.

Suddenly, your phone rang again. This time, when you checked, it was your dad again. Strange. It was weird for him to call you twice in a row. He usually got to the point within a few sentences.

Picking up the phone, you said, “Hey dad-”

“________, listen to me. Get to someplace safe now. Get out of the road. Get out of the public. I don't care if you have to go inside someone else’s house, just get out of sight.”

Stopping in the middle of the road you let out some surprised stutters. “Wh- Dad, what are you talking about?”

“_______, please, just listen to me when I say this, you are in danger and you need to get out of there.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

You were shuffling around trying to find a good place to “hide” while your dad went into complete panic mode in his voice. “_______, find a place to hide, and whatever you do, get out of open space.”

You heard him speak to someone off the phone, before he cursed out loud. “I have to call you back, but someone will be there, wherever you are, ok? I… I love you.”

Before you could answer him, he hung up the phone. Anxiety was the only thing you could feel, as you looked around the desolate neighborhood. There was a reason why you chose this area over others: it was quiet and small. Not only that, but the only people who walked this way were people who were not fond of bigger crowds. In fact, you haven’t seen anyone go this way for a long time. You always wondered why, since it was the perfect way to get robbed. Of course, that would never happen, especially with all those lessons from your dad about self defense.

The street you were on had walls surrounding the sidewalk to prevent people from going into people's backyards, probably. They were too high up to climb, and they were concrete, so it wouldn’t be easy to just hop over and call it a day.

However, you were almost at the end of the street, and you knew there was a little patch of bushes and leaves that would provide the perfect cover. They were almost as tall as your dad, which always made you wonder who was watering them to be that big.

Pacing quickly towards the end of the street, and seeing no one in sight made you let out a sigh of relief. Either dad was overeating or something bad was happening, and you don’t know which would be worse. When Cec- dad overrated, it always got messy, no matter what it was about.

“Why were you out so long? I was about to send a team after you-”

“Cecil, it’s fine, I just had to talk to my-”

“Don’t call me Cecil, and don’t try to make excuses, tell me who you were with right now or I swear to god-”

You forgot the memory almost as soon as it came up, instead choosing to focus on getting to the brush where you could hide until C- Dad came to pick you up. Wherever he was. Actually, did he give you a time that he would be there?

You got a weird feeling that made you sprint towards the bushes and dive in, like there was someone behind you. You ignored it and forced your way on all fours, ignoring the cuts and scratches you were getting on your arms and legs.

There was almost a whooshing sound above you, and you wondered if your dad sent a fucking jet to get you. But that thought left your mind when you heard it right next to you, along with the sound of someone making a harsh landing onto the street. You were able to hear the little bits and pieces of concrete fly off the ground to hit the ground again.

You stayed completely still, leaning on your arms while your body was facing the street. You heard something shuffle, like moving fabric around, before a familiar voice hit your ears.

“Who’s there?” they- he said, and you were about to cry out of relief when you heard it. “Omni-Man?”

~~~~~

“Cecil, why do you think Nolan would go after ________?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Cecil didn’t look at Debbie, instead focusing on the map in front of him, wondering where Mark could’ve been.

“What reason would he have to go after them? I just- he wouldn’t just attack a child, would he?”

Cecil felt his head start to hurt. Goddamnit, why did Nolan want to go after you? You had nothing to do with anything, besides being Cecil’s daughter. … is that why he was after you? Just because you were related to Cecil?

No, Nolan wasn’t stupid. He knew you weren’t his biological daughter, Nolan knew Cecil took you from somewhere.

He probably thought you were just someone that he got for fun, which was the furthest from the truth. Cecil didn’t-

“Sir, we’ve found Mark Grayson, along with your daughter, not at the same locations, but-”

“Where is she?” Cecil didn’t try to hide his worry in his voice. It didn’t exactly help when the agent said, in a monotone voice, “She's with Omni-Man, sir.”

~~~~~

“________? What are you doing here?”

Peeking out from the bush, you saw Omni-Man walk up towards you and hold out his hand. You graciously took it, and helped yourself up. Even when you were standing at your full height, Omni-Man was way taller than you. Like, way taller. He could beat your dad within an inch of his life even with all of that combat stuff he learned over the years.

Of course he could, he’s Omni-Man dumbass. Ignoring the thought, you answered, “I’m, uh, busy.”

You saw him give a small smile. “You’re busy hiding in the bushes?”

“Yes.” you cursed internally for answering that so quickly like an idiot. You weren’t expecting him to let out a laugh. He continued while you stood there, confused as all hell.

Finally, he said, “You know, you’re a terrible liar.” You laughed along with him for a moment, before saying, “Yeah, I know.”

His face suddenly darkened, before he said, “So, why are you out here?”

The laughter in the air was gone now, only replaced by crushing silence as he waited for your answer. You felt yourself shrink under his scrutinizing gaze. He looked like he was judging you for just standing there. Well, he could’ve also been judging you because you were in a bush just 10 seconds earlier. After a few more seconds, you broke.

“C- Dad said to hide somewhere.”

“Aren’t you too old to be playing those games?”

“Yeah, I am, but apparently someone was gonna come and get me. He just said to get out of open space.”

You heard him mutter something under his breath, before he scratched the back of his head.

“Well, I can see why he would want that.”

“Really? Why?”

“A mob boss named Machine Head.” When you gave him a confused look, he elaborated, “Machine head was a guy who took down the new Guardians of the Globe along with… Mark. They thought they got him, but unfortunately they weren’t able to kill him.”

“How does that have anything with me?”

“... You’re Cecil’s daughter. Cecil was the one who found out about Machine Head. And took him down. Machine Head wants revenge against Cecil for ruining his plans, so he’s probably going to take it out on you.” When you still gave a surprised stare, he asked, “Do you really not have this happen often?”

“No, Dad keeps me inside alot…” your voice trailed off when you heard your phone ring, and picking it up, you saw it was your dad.

“Hello?”

“_________, I told you to get to somewhere safe!”

“I-I am! I’m with Nolan!”

“Hey, Cecil, don’t worry, I’m right here.” Nolan’s voice was filled with sarcasm, probably an old joke between the two. After all, they were both good friends to each other.

“No, you don’t understand, ______, listen to me-”

Suddenly you were grabbed by your arm, and dragged down. You were caught by Omni-Man before you hit the ground, though. Looking behind him, you saw two trucks coming towards you, along with multiple people in them, with weapons of all sorts.

You didn’t have time to ask who they were or what they wanted, as Omni-Man grabbed you and pulled out off the ground, and into the air. It took you a few moments, but you realized you were in the air. Flying.

Reaching for your phone in your pocket to call your dad back, you realized you must’ve dropped it. However, you weren’t about to waste your energy trying to get it back. Especially not when you were high above the ground. So you simply hung on for dear life as Omni-Man flew away from the shouting people in the cars.

~~~~~

“Where is she?”

“She went with Omni-Man, sir.”

Cecil stood there for a moment, wondering what the fuck happened. It was obvious now that Nolan had no intentions to harm you, but why would he take you and not tell you anything? Cecil wondered before something was handed to him. “We found this near where they took off, sir.”

It was your phone. Completely crushed to bits. “Omni-Man took it from her and crushed it without her knowledge, sir.”

“You started to shoot at her?! What the hell were you thinking!?”

The men stood there, completely still realizing their mistake. “We’re not kids playing at some game, this is real life. And now- I-” he really wanted to kill Nolan now. Debbie was going to become a widow, and he really didn’t care.

Walking up to the truck that was nearest to him, he opened the back and shuffled around, trying to find something, anything that would be of use.

Then he found his favorite gun. The only one he could actually hold himself without another person that stopped Omni-man.

Loading the ammunition, he walked over to Donald, who had a tablet in his hand. “Sir, we’ve found where they’re going.”

Looking at the area on the map, Cecil tapped his wrist watch, and said, “Good. Get the backup ready, and get Mark Grayson. Get Invincible.”

#yandere invincible #yandere nolan grayson #yandere cecil stedman #originally i was gonna put the invincible logo at the end but i didn't want to do that much work cuz im tired rn

210 notes · View notes

crescentsteel · 4 years ago

Text

Keeping a Secret - Part 7

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.4k

Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist

[a/n]

I’m so sorry for the delayed update. Things are happening in my personal life that my writing has incredibly slowed down.

To that anon who was asking for updates, I’m sorry if I made it seem like you were rushing me (in case you weren’t). Sometimes, I just tend to feel so pressured that I easily project that to others.

Y’all been excited for this. Here you go, a drunk Tsukishima to make up for the slow update.

AO3 link is on the masterlist in case Tumblr crashes on you from how long this update is.

Your eyes widen at the current state of Tsukishima. You look around warily, checking if there’s any mutual classmate you know who is around. But with how dim the club is, the attempt to do so is futile.

“Tsukishima…” you protest while prying his hands away from your waist.

“We’re in public!” You hiss at his behavior, but he’s completely unfazed. His hands keep creeping back at the spot they were rooted at.

His facial expression doesn’t falter either. He’s still wearing that silly grin that looks nothing like his usual ones. “So? Didn’t you hug me publicly, right in the middle of the Sendai Gym?” he counters with a cocked brow as his elated grin turns to a clever smirk.

Oh God. What has Tsukishima turned into? He’s like one of those guys who hit on you, but the difference is you’re actually flustered by it.

Even with his hands and gaze glued to you, you turn to the bartender. “How long has he been here?” you shout. “A while now,” the bartender shouts back.

You glance at Tsukki’s consumed glasses again. It’s only one glass and two shot glasses. How can he be this drunk already?

You don’t wonder too long before figuring it out. Tsukishima’s definitely a lightweight, shown by his level of intoxication at the moment even though in reality, he hasn’t had much to drink.

Why did he even drink in the first place? He said he doesn’t see the point of parties. Why is he here getting himself hammered? You grimace when you realize that there’s training tomorrow. You’ve scolded members before for such behavior and now they know better than to get wasted when there’s practice the next day.

You did not expect such irresponsibility from Tsukishima, who’s always exhibited exemplary behavior.

“You should go home.” You mean to sound strict, but with his body being a bit too close, your voice falters.

He cups the back of your head and pulls you so that his lips are ghosting against your ear.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” he says haughtily.

It’s a very familiar scenario with a very different Tsukishima holding you in place. If he’s his usual self (sober and pissed off at you), you’d be teasing him for coming to this club. Instead, you’re the flustered one as his fingers brush your nape while his breath fans your ear.

“G-go home, Tsukki,” you stutter as you feel his grip on your waist tighten.

“But why?” His hand on your nape travels down on your spine. “Didn’t you say I was welcome to go here?” The ends of your hair prickle up as he presses the warmth of his lips on your cheek when he pulls away slightly.

It was almost the same scenario when you first saw him in this very same club - the whispering, the closeness, the incredible urge to feel his mouth on yours. The difference is Tsukishima himself. Unlike before when you two were fighting the pull of the temptation, this time, it’s worse because of his suggestive demeanor.

“Stop it,” you chastise him with a little bit more conviction.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” He withdraws until his lips are only an inch away from yours.

You take a deep breath, collecting yourself before pushing yourself away from him. “Go home, Tsukishima. You have training tomorrow!” you shout to make sure he hears you without leaning close to him.

He looks at you like he doesn’t understand shit. His tipsy grin is now wiped off, replaced with an empty, clueless Tsukishima staring at you. You don’t falter though. You continue glaring at him. Luckily, it seems to sink in his head after a few seconds as he finally stands up.

At the first step he takes, he staggers like a high school student who got drunk for the first time. You start to feel bad for him because he looks like he really is struggling with it while continuing to fiddle with his glass as if that’s the cause of his apparent dizziness.

You position yourself underneath his arm and help him balance himself.

You groan as you wobble when he rests some of his weight to you. How can you momentarily forget that he’s a professional athlete weighing more than 160 lbs? You’re always surrounded by tall men, and this has made you think that that height is normal, when in reality they can crush you in a snap.

You realize that Tsukishima is a lot more busted than you thought. You can see he’s actually trying to walk normally but is failing miserably.

You’ve already talked to most of your friends so you don’t mind helping him get back home. Not that it matters. You’d still be helping him get back home even if you hadn’t. Aside from being one of your players, he’s also your study partner. You can’t just leave him be.

With a very drunk Tsukishima on one shoulder, you hail a taxi and carefully make him sit inside. Your initial plan is just getting him a ride home, but looking at him now, you’re not sure if that’s the best idea. He might suddenly pass out. Who knows what will happen to him then?

You sigh as you get yourself inside the cab as well.

You give the driver the address of the Tsukishima’s while he rests his head on top of yours. “This car is moving too much,” he complains with discomfort crisp in his voice. The vehicle is rather stable. It’s the alcohol in his head that’s making things shaky for him.

Instead of letting him lean on you, you carefully settle his head against the headrest of the car seat so he’s leaning back instead of sideways. You kneel instead of sitting so you can use your hands to keep his head steady because he’s too darn tall.

After a short while, he lets out a sigh of relief from the stability your hands provided. His features are more relaxed now that his brows are no longer scrunched up and his lips no longer pressed in a strained manner.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head a bit to look at you. He grasps one of your wrists as he gives you a faint smile that doesn’t resemble anything he’s given you, not even the dumb one he did at the club.

It’s a tender and genuine smile that softens up his usually stern face. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Yes, you’re well aware. You hear it all the time that the word lost any shred of novelty it once had.

But when Tsukishima says it, your heart skips a beat. He isn’t flirting with you. He’s looking at you like he’s stating an observation he finds pleasing to him, like you’re a sight he’s truly enjoying to see.

You almost let go of his face from the uncanny feeling on your chest that’s making you uneasy, but you halt yourself when you remember that this guy’s world will spin faster than Jupiter’s rotation if you let him be.

You let out a deep sigh to calm yourself down.

“I know,” you respond firmly to hide the fuzzy mess that you are on the inside.

“If I’m not so fucking plastered, I’d kiss you.”

You suck in a sharp breath upon hearing it, the yearning to do so creeping up fast behind you.

You can do it yourself. You’re not dizzy. It’d be so easy. His face is already in your grasp anyways. You just have to lean forward a bit and you can easily grant him what both of you want.

Should you?

It’d just be one of your harmless kisses, right? You’ve done it countless times before. One more shouldn’t hurt.

“We’re here.”

You’re harshly brought back to sanity by the driver’s cue that you’ve reached his home. You’re thankful for it because you were really about to kiss him even though you’re the one who said that the deal is no more. You would have slapped yourself if your hands aren’t full.

You pay the driver and help Tsukishima get out of the car.

You get under his one arm again and assist his steps so he doesn’t stumble. Once you reach their doorstep, he gets his keys from his pockets but scuffles trying to insert it in the keyhole. Instead of getting pissed, he laughs sardonically and faces you.

“Look, y/n. The key is fucking stupid,” he says, completely believing that it’s the key’s fault and is actually snickering at the inanimate piece of metal’s ‘incapability’ to shoot itself where it needs to be.

You can’t help but laugh. Even at his drunken state, he still roasts things he deems doltish. It’s funnier cause he talks a bit dopey while insulting the innocent key. He’s still failing after a while so you volunteer to do it.

“I can do it,” he says seriously and on his next attempt, he does get it in. Then he looks at you and smirks proudly. “See?”

You shake your head and roll your eyes at how absurd he’s acting, but the grin on your face remains. He is still very much himself. It’s just that his rudeness is comically misplaced. Yet as entertaining as it is to watch, you can feel the strain in your shoulders and upper back already.

You open the door and hope that a relative is somehow still awake to take Tsukki off your hands. Still no luck for you as you’re greeted with nothing but silence.

“Where’s your room?” “Upstairs, left.”

Great. Can this get even worse? Your original plan is just getting him a cab. Now you have to personally walk him to his room since he’s hopeless treading on a flat surface. What more on a flight of stairs?

You ask him to close the door and lock it before you head up. “Alright, Tsukki. Let’s get you in bed,” you tell yourself as a motivational push to get the task done.

You huff every step you take because he really is too heavy for you and you’ve had a long night already. You’ll be sure to reprimand him tomorrow for this.

“Y/n?”

You lift your head up from wooden steps and see Akiteru at the top end of the stairs.

“Aki-san!” You can’t be more thankful upon his arrival.

He urgently goes to you, stopping a few steps up from you and Tsukki.

“What happened to him?” Akiteru asks concernedly.

“He’s…” you try to think of a more decent word but you can’t think of any at the moment so you tell it as it is. “He’s drunk,” you admit.

Akiteru’s expression is even more incredulous than yours was back in the bar. He’s looking at you and Tsukki interchangeably.

“You... you got him to drink?”

You don’t know if you’re offended or amused because Akiteru looks like he’s extremely grateful that you caused this to his brother.

“I-uh... no. I found him like this in the club. I think you should take him already,” you suggest. You’re about to lift Tsukki’s arm off of you when you feel him resist. When you turn to him, he’s already looking at you with displeasure. “You said you would get me in bed,” he states.

Is he fucking serious? Hell no. You have no reason to do so when Akiteru is here already. “Aki-san, please,” you implore while glaring at Tsukki.

“Umm... you heard him, y/n.”

You harshly turn your head at Akiteru from disbelief. When your gaze lands on him, he’s sporting an innocent smile, a stark contrast to knowing that the intention behind it is not so innocent.

“Aki-san?” your voice rises a bit from bewilderment at what he’s insinuating.

“Why do you call Nii-chan by his name?” Tsukki slurs as he asks.

“Huh?” You eye Tsukki exasperatedly. You have yet to absorb what Akiteru is implying and Tsukki is already adding up to the initial question mark hanging on your head.

“You just met him and you already call him Aki-san. We’ve been working together for three years, yet you don’t call me Kei. Not even when we ki-”

You cover his mouth and laugh awkwardly and loudly. “Tsukki! What are you talking about?” You make yourself sound clueless as you give him a very subtle glare while smiling, hoping that he gets your warning.

“When you what?” Akiteru prods, his eyes still friendly, but with amusement lurking beneath them.

You form a smile but with Tsukki’s weight and his intoxicatedness that’s causing him to babble nonsense, it comes out distressed.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” you persist. “I should really go now. It’s really late, Aki-san. Please,” you press on.

“You can stay,” Tsukki suggests with a faint smirk.

“I agree with Kei. It really is late. We’d be responsible if something happens to you,” he explains kindly, but you know his concern is only second place to what he’s actually thinking. You can tell he’s rooting for you and his younger brother.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be responsible for you,” Tsukki announces with his voice a bit garbled.

Akiteru laughs at Tsukki’s remark but thwarts it immediately as he eyes you apologetically. “Sorry about my brother,” he whispers with one hand covering his mouth.

“Just sleep with me in my room.”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, it does. Your mouth gapes at Tsukki from how he just uttered that inappropriate statement right in front of his older brother.

You turn to Akiteru defensively. “It’s not what you think.”

Akiteru’s courteous smile doesn’t faze as he says, “I’m not thinking anything, y.n.”

The whole situation makes you want to let go of Tsukki’s arm and jump off the railings of stairs. Then, you’ll wake up in the morning and find that you’ve escaped this entire scenario altogether.

You sigh and wave an imaginary white flag in your head. “I’ll make sure he’s fine,” you say to Akiteru.

You see his eyes light up. Since you and Tsukki are already occupying the narrowness of the stairs, Akiteru can’t go to Tsukki’s other arm to help you. Instead, he goes back up and opens a door on the left.

He keeps it open until you reach what you surmise is Tsukki’s room.

Once you get inside, you hear Akiteru speak, “Thanks for taking care of my brother, y.n.” He closes the door before you can say anything.

Rather than minding Akiteru, you pour your attention on Tsukki, getting him to sit down with his head leaning against a wall.

You feel the instant relief on your shoulders with Tsukki’s weight off them. However, you can’t ease up yet. You have to go to their kitchen and get this guy some water.

You’ll complain later or tomorrow, but for now, you’re going to focus on getting shit done.

You’re about to head out of his room when the door opens itself, causing you to yelp from shock.

“Sorry,” Akiteru apologizes with a hushed voice. In his hand is a huge bottle of water which he extends to you with congenial fondness.

“Goodnight,” he says prior to closing the door.

Akiteru is pleasant, but he can’t be more obvious on how he eminently pairs you up with his brother.

You don’t delve into it further as you need to get Tsukki all fixed up. You walk over to where you seated him and make him drink the water Akiteru gave.

You need to make sure he’s not totally hammered when he sleeps. You don’t want him with a hangover tomorrow and skip training when the next match is just a week away.

He seems in need of the liquid too since he quickly finishes the bottle as soon as he takes it. He clumsily slams the empty bottle on his desk and stands up precariously.

“Woah there. Where are you going?” you ask imperiously.

“Bathroom,” he answers. He tips his head towards you as a corner of his lip shoots up. “Why? Care to join me?”

You want to fight back with a sarcastic ‘No, thank you,’ but he still walks a bit funny so you can’t exactly let him be. You sigh as you take his arm again and aid him as he walks.

“Only until the door,” you patiently answer.

As much as you want to be a smartass like him, you need the Frog’s starting middle blocker to never miss a training. You can’t have him tripping, falling flat on his face, or accidentally bumping on a wall.

You let him inside the restroom. Luckily, they have one on this floor so bless your shoulders and upper back. When he comes out, he looks a little less disoriented and his sense of balance is somehow stable with how he’s standing.

You follow him as he goes back to his room. To your shock, he immediately crawls to bed without changing. ‘Disgusting,’ you comment mentally. He came from outside, a club specifically. How could he not bother changing?

“Aren’t you going to change clothes?” you ask, your grossed out tone clearly heard.

“I’m tired and I’m still slightly dizzy,” he says nonchalantly.

He begins settling down while you’re standing there, tired and dumbfounded. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” He glances around his room, probably trying to recall where he put an extra mattress. Only two seconds later, he gives his bed one firm tap as if to tell you that you’re sleeping beside him.

You close your eyes from exhaustion and exasperation combined. You don’t want to sleep next to Tsukishima but it has been one hell of an evening already that you’ll take what you can get. He’s already sobered up a bit anyway. You’re at ease that he’ll keep his hands to himself.

You walk to his drawers and find a pair of loose clothing he can comfortably sleep in. Then you stride to his bed and give it to him. He looks at the clothes you’re holding then at you.

On a regular day, he wouldn’t dare sit on his bed without changing after spending time outside.. Tonight is the only exception because he truly isn’t up to the task anymore. He’ll just change his sheets tomorrow.

He only wants to lie in bed and shut his eyes already. But with you handing him a change of clothes, he has no reason to not to do so anymore.

No reason but to get back at you for giving him hell when you got yourself sick and passed out with only him present to take care of you.

“I told you I’m dizzy,” he says without accepting the clothes you’re offering him.

“Don’t tell me I have to change your clothes myself.” He can hear you’re about to lose it and it’s spurring him on even more. He hides his smirk and shrugs indifferently, leaving it to you to decide that for yourself.

You palm your face furiously and it’s almost breaking his resolve to keep a steady face. You prove to have a sensible amount of control on your temper as you recover after one excruciating deep breath. He’s not exactly surprised though. You’ve been a manager for three years now and handling male athletes is not exactly a walk in the park if one has temper problems.

You put one knee on his bed as you start tugging his shirt up. “Why did you even drink?”

“Why do you care?” He answers the same way you did when he asked why you bother going to parties.

“Because I’m the one taking care of you!” you almost yell as you dress him in a new shirt. When you successfully change his shirt, you glance at his pants then to his eyes. You didn’t have to utter a word to let him know that you don’t plan to change that particular piece of clothing.

He doesn’t falter though. If he tasted hell because he had to undress your top while you were passed out, he couldn’t miss the chance to return the favor.

“So? You didn’t hear shit from me when I had to take care of your sick ass,” he says, pouring salt to the right burn so he can push you to go along with his scheme.

You clench your jaw as you avert your eyes from his.

“You were a real handful, you know that?” he continues on. “Come to think of it. You’ve heard not a single complaint from me about that night. Should I lecture you now?” His lips betray his apathetic facade when a smirk forms on his face.

You smile at him with utter displeasure but don’t say anything as you start unzipping his pants, your spiteful eyes never leaving his amused ones.

“I’d love it if you help by lifting your sarcastic butt,” you sound distressed as you try to pull down his pants.

He grips both your hands that are tugging on his waistband. He props himself up a bit, leaning down and closing in on your stunned yet still delightful face.

“Why do you look so surprised? You asked me to help you, right?” he asks with a subdued voice as he tugs his pants down.

You turn your face away from his and don't answer his question as you continue what he started. His eyes never trail off your features until you successfully take his pants off

With your face still turned away from his, you grab the shorts you took earlier and toss it to his face. “Seems like you’re not dizzy anymore,” you say as you head to his closet.

For no fucking reason, he’s laughing elatedly. He might not be dizzy anymore but he can still feel the aftermath of the drinks he rushed drinking at the club. Is this why people get drunk? Because even the most trivial things are funny?

No. It’s because he’s drunk. It’s because of how entertaining you look when you’re a flustered mess. Before you looked away, he caught the wild blush on your cheeks, the stir in your eyes, and the way your hands trembled as you undressed him.

Initially, he wanted you to put on the shorts you got for him as well. But he figures he can show you mercy and do this one on his own since he already had his fun seeing you in a flustered state.

You open his closet and pick your own set of fresh clothes to borrow. Without saying anything, you step out of his room and head towards their restroom.

The first thing you do inside is check your reflection and goddamn it--you’re blushing like a teenager about to lose her virginity.

You groan frustratedly as you softly slap your cheek with your free hand. Tsukishima is tipsy and is just messing with you. Why do you have to be so affected?

You turn the faucet on and hurriedly wash the heat off your face. When you feel like you’ve cooled off, you look up at the mirror to check if you’re no longer a bursting tomato.

You sigh with relief when you see that your face is back to normal. You turn off the faucet and begin changing to Tsukki’s clothes.

As expected, everything is loose. His shirt is almost a dress. Actually, it already is with how it’s draping just above your knees. You had to use your hair tie to knot a portion of his shorts’ waistband for it to not to drop on your ankles.

It’ll be uncomfortable sleeping with lumped fabric on your hips but you’d prefer that than not wearing anything underneath his shirt.

You neatly fold your clothes and go back to his room. Another wave of relief hits you when you see him lying down with his eyes closed already. His glasses are already off too. Despite the strenuous and outrageous turn of events earlier tonight, you’re actually glad that he’s safe and sleeping soundly.

Hopefully tomorrow, he’s going to be fine and forget the shit he pulled on you tonight.

You take a deep breath as you sit on his bed. Fortunately, his bed is wide enough for you to have some decent amount of space away from him. He also has another pillow so you can sleep comfortably with one of your own. You just pray that it won’t be so cold because there is only one blanket.

Oh well. You’ll cross the bridge when you get there.

You get his extra pillow and lie down. Once your back hits the soft mattress, your eyes shut close on their own. You feel the weight in your legs and back settle as your body starts to relax. You know that any moment now, you’ll fall asleep so you turn to your side with your back facing Tsukishima.

You were right. You already feel your consciousness drifting off not long after, only to be disrupted by an arm sliding over your waist.

“What the-”

“My head hurts.”

Even if Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, you already know how close he is with warm breath fanning your nape. You’d scoot away but you’re already at the edge of his bed.

You harshly remove his arm and face him to give him a not so peaceful piece of your mind. You toss around to face him and when you do, you forget your annoyance as you’re met with a very distressed Tsukishima. His eyes are closed and his brows are furrowed together in almost a straight line.

“How bad is it?” You ask as you gently brush his hair away from his forehead.

“Like someone’s driving a fucking nail on my head,” he spats out with the crease on his brows getting deeper.

You gently slide one hand under his head and so you can massage his temples with both thumbs, hopefully it’ll soothe him even just a bit.

Thankfully, the crease on his brows and the tension around his nose and mouth eases up. “Where are your painkillers?” I ask softly. “I’ll go get one for you.”

He opens his eyes, a certain tenderness dancing in his orbs while he stares right onto yours. “Just stay here,” he utters delicately as he gradually slides his arm back to your waist. With a firm but still gentle grip on the small of your back, he draws you closer to him until there’s almost no space between your bodies.

This is different, way too different than he was earlier. And to be honest, you’d prefer that over this. This… it’s something even you cannot name.

Your thumbs stop moving on their own accord as he inches his face closer. You almost gasp for air with how heavy and thick it suddenly feels.

“Uh..,” you trail off without even saying anything. You just thought if you said something, it would break the tension. However, it only made it worse.

“Hmm?”

You seem to be the only one uncomfortable as he’s still gazing intently at you like it’s nothing.

“W-Why are you staring at me like that?” What the hell did you stutter for? This is just Tsukishima, goddamnit.

“It hurts less when I do.” You’d think he’s joking but there’s no trace of derision anywhere on his face. He removes his hand from your waist only to rest it on your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw as he says, “I don’t like that I can’t see you clearly right now.”

It’s too much.

Your chest feels like it’s about to explode from how fast your heart is pounding. You want to retract your hands away from him, but you can’t move them because having them there makes him feel better.

Then he looks down on your lips, a knowing look that you’re very much familiar with.

“Tsukki, we can’t do this,” you whisper, causing his eyes to go back on yours.

“What are we doing anyway?” he asks as if he’s not aware of what he’s stirring in you.

“You know what,” you insist. There’s no way he doesn’t.

“I don’t. Maybe if we actually do something, I’ll know what you’re talking about.”

You squint at him with disbelief, not buying the innocent act of him not grasping the situation when he’s the one causing it. “We already broke that deal, Tsukki.”

“Then let’s bring it back,” he counters right off the bat.

You sigh while shaking your head disagreeably. “You’re drunk,” you state plainly, reminding yourself of this fact to rationalize the way he’s behaving, to calm the havoc that he’s inciting in you.

You put your thumbs back to work and knead his temples again.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees as he closes his eyes again. He lets out a reposed sigh, then removes his hand from your neck.

You can now rest easy as the temptation backs away himself. You keep at it, observing his stern features which are getting more lax while you continue massaging him.

Finally, he does as you want him to do: sleep and keep his hands to himself.

So why is there a nagging emptiness brimming inside you? You’re not actually disappointed, are you?

“Tsukki,” you utter his name in hushed tones, hoping that he won’t respond.

With his eyes still shut, you thought he wouldn’t. Yet, he answers just as softly as you called him. “What?”

You sigh. Why is he still awake? He could’ve been asleep already or just stayed quiet and ignored you. Then you’d be able to sleep soundly knowing that you didn’t do anything that you could possibly regret in the morning.

You stop encircling your thumbs on his head and rest your palms on his cheeks instead. You lean closer to his face.

“If you change your mind in the morning, forget this happened,” you whisper before you succumb to the snares of attraction you’ve been running away from since you saw Tsukishima in the bar.

You capture his lips, gradually easing into it, giving yourself time to retreat before he responds. Apart from you not wanting to, he doesn’t give you much time at all as he puts his hand back on your neck and returns the kiss with a guttural sigh.

He eagerly nips on your lips, ardently moving against them as if he’s been wanting to do this for a while already. You respond with the same passion, pressing yourself closer to feel his body firm against yours.

He moves his hand from your neck to the back of your head, lightly gripping your hair as he coaxes your mouth open with the flick of his tongue on your lower lip.

You immediately yield to him, parting your lips so you can have more of what he’ll give. When he slips his tongue in and grazes yours, you taste the slight tang of alcohol. It’s very subtle, barely there, but it’s causing a buzz in your senses that no other liquor has provided.

It’s only a kiss, but you know that this is unlike the previous harmless ones you’ve shared with him.

Your soft moans on his mouth and his lips growing greedier with each nip tells you that this is one very dangerous kiss.

You drag your hand from his cheek to his chest to push him away, but he suddenly tugs your hair down, giving himself access to the column of your neck. This time, rather than nudging him away, you clutch his shirt tightly, feeling his mouth trail along the sensitive skin of your neck.

“T-Tsukishima,” you whine as his hand travels down your ass, his huge palm and long fingers tugging on the fabric as he gives one cheek a firm squeeze.

“Hmmm?” he hums on your skin before you feel his tongue swipe down on your collarbone.

Your skin is on fire but you feel like you’re drowning. Everything he’s doing is compelling you to want to go further than this, to let him touch you beneath the clothes you’re wearing, to let him kiss you wherever he pleases.

Tsukishima wants nothing but precisely that. He’d blame the alcohol, but nothing’s more intoxicating than the sound of your whimpers and your body deliciously pressed against his. His clothes hanging loosely on you only adds to his delirium.

He knows this is going to lead to something incredibly stupid and totally reckless, but stupid and reckless has never felt this delectable. How can he not indulge himself when the promise of your rapture is just within his grasp?

He just needs to know if you’re willing to cross the obscure boundary of the deal you once had.

He puts his free hand to use, sliding it underneath the baggy shirt you’re wearing. He carefully skims his hand up, grazing his fingers just below your bra. Meanwhile, his other hand on your bottom goes a bit further down, only for him to slip his hand inside the oversized shorts and feel your almost bare ass.

With his other hand feeling empty, he moves his palm up and kneads one supple bosom.

“Ah,” you clench his shirt tighter as you mewl from his touch. Even though he can’t see you clearly, your voice and the way your arch your body even closer to him is enough to cause a tent to form in his shorts.

He withdraws away from your neck and gets back to your lips. With his hand on your behind, he lugs you closer and grinds his erection on your thigh, letting you know how much you affect him, how much he wants you right now.

Then your body stills along with the quivering of your lips.

He pulls back to look at you and even with his blurred vision, he can sense that you’re frightened. “What’s wrong?” Just a while ago, you were melting within his embrace. Now, you’re shaking like a leaf.

“I-” Your breath hitches when you speak. “I can’t do this,” you whisper weakly even though you’re the one who instigated the kiss that led to this.

Although he’s confused about the sudden change of heart, he doesn’t push it. He immediately removes his hands off your delicate parts and puts considerable space between you.

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to seem so scared,” he tells you with an insipid, yet reassuring tone.

You are scared, but not of Tsukishima. You’re afraid of yourself, of your own desire that’s starting to get out of control. You know that one more kiss and you’ll totally cave in.

It shouldn’t be a problem since you know that he wants you just as you want him. The hard thing poking at your thigh is enough proof.

But what happens if morning comes and he wakes up regretting his inebriated urges? He might not be batshit drunk anymore but alcohol is still running through him. If not, he wouldn’t be openly flirting with you.

What about you? What will be your excuse if the sun rises and he asks why you went along with his intoxicated whims?

None.

You’ll be held responsible for leading him to dance the devil’s tango when he’s not capable of consenting to it with a straight head. You don’t want that. You don’t want to see disgust and regret splashed on his face in the morning, not when you terribly enjoy his kisses and touch.

So you softly push him away. “I’ll sleep beside you, Tsukishima. That’s all I’ll do,” you say with your head down and palms flat on his chest.

“Okay,” he obliges right after you said it. “Do you want me to turn away from you?”

Your eyes shoot up and meet his somber golden ones. “N-no. It’s fine. I’ll do it,” you stammer as you shift your position so your back is facing him. You take a while before you feel your heartbeat getting steady again as the temptation dwindles down.

You’re about to close your eyes when a gentle hand lands on your shoulder.

“Can I hold you like this?” he asks, his voice a bit farther than it was a while ago. You can tell that he’s maintaining his distance this time.

“Just like this,” he reiterates with his hand squeezing your shoulder to let you know that his hand won’t drift anywhere else.

You shut your eyes with a faint smile on your lips. You place a hand over his and give it a light squeeze as you murmur, “Yeah.”

Your hand starts to slip down when tonight’s events offer you a last surprise. As your hand glides down while you’re starting to drift off to sleep, he laces his fingers with yours to keep it in place.

You hum peacefully with a gratified smile fully forming on your lips.

You allow yourself to have this.

What harm can come from holding hands with your tipsy blonde middle blocker?

You wake up a bit refreshed. However, you can still feel the aftermath of Tsukki’s heavy figure slouched on your shoulder last night, or was it morning already? You try to massage your shoulder but as you move your hand, you feel someone else’s intertwined with it.

You press your lips together to prevent a smile when you realize that you two slept together. It’s nothing. You shouldn’t be smiling because of it. It’s just a tiny gesture of reassurance that things are okay between you two despite what almost happened.

You carefully untangle your fingers from him before you sit up. You glance sideways to see if you woke him up. He shuffles a bit but doesn’t seem to have been disturbed.

You look out the window and see that the sun has barely risen, meaning you haven’t gotten enough sleep. You know it’s no use getting back to sleep since your mind is already fully awake. You wouldn’t dare get out his room but you’re parched and you need to use the restroom.

You step out of his room and gently closes the door. After you finish using the restroom, you carefully go down their stairs. You take a peek if any of his relatives is up and are relieved when you see that their kitchen is empty.

You saunter your way to their kitchen, remaining as quiet as you can be while you fix yourself a glass of water.

“Morning.”

You flinch and almost drop the glass you just finished when you hear the unexpected greeting. You look at the source and see Akiteru, leaning sideways against the fridge with an amicable smile.

“Oh!” You exhale a huge breath of relief as you put down your glass on the counter. You turn to him to greet him but when you face him, he eyes what you’re wearing. You follow his gaze and realize that you’re wearing Tsukki’s clothes.

‘It’s not what you think,’ is what you want to say, but you already said that at the stairs. If you repeat it again, you’d seem more defensive than you already were. But how else would you explain yourself?

You look at him with pleading eyes and a weary smile. “I swear, it’s really not what it looks like,” you insist weakly. “I just had nothing to wear,” you add to your defense. Akiteru laughs and waves his hand considerately.

“Don’t worry! I believe you, y/n,” he says with his honest, kind smile. “It’s a bit early for you to be up though,” he remarks.

“Yeah. My mind is all...” You hover your hands on both sides of your head and shake them while you roll your eyes inanely.

He chuckles from the antic you didn’t even realize you did. “Wanna chat for a bit? Since you’re all,” he imitates what you did with your head but quelled and contained.

You smile from how pleasant he is despite teasing you so much for taking care of his brother. “Sure,” you answer kindly.

He walks towards their dining table and offers you a seat. You follow curtly and sit across him. He regards you decorously, making you feel at ease even though he’s practically a stranger.

“I have to ask, y/n. There’s really nothing between you and Kei?” he asks genuinely. You can tell that he’s looking out for his younger brother, hence the straightforward question.

You shake your head with a courteous smile. “Nothing. I don’t know if you know, Aki-san, but I’m also his manager.”

His eyes widen.

“You’re the Sendai Frogs’ manager?”

He’s seen Kei’s games but didn’t really have the chance to meet those who stayed on the bench. In one game he has watched, he heard some people beside him saying how blessed the Frogs are for having a ‘hot’ pair of coach and manager. Although he glanced very briefly because of his curiosity, he didn’t really see much of said pair for he was too far away in the stands. You beam proudly at him as you nod, confirming that the other half of the duo is indeed as lovely as the rumors he heard. “For three years now.”

Akiteru scans your face and can’t help but feel like he’s misjudged you a bit. He thought you’re a university student who likes going out and enjoys the most out of college life. He didn’t think you’d be working as a manager for a team. “I was just making sure he got home okay because we need him for practice. The next game is already next week.”

“Isn’t it tough to be his manager?” he asks, curious about what you think of Kei as an athlete.

“Not really. I like everyone in the team. To be honest though, he was a real pain in the a-” you cut yourself off and clear your throat. You must have realized that you’re talking to him, Kei’s older brother. Although, he wouldn’t really mind if you continue what you were about to say. It amuses him actually.

“What I mean to say was he was a bit difficult at first. But over time, I got used to him and actually found him nice to have in the team. He’s very smart and very disciplined. Even if he’s apathetic and sarcastic at times, I know he loves being part of the Frogs,” you explain.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says truthfully as he sees that you’re fond of Kei when your eyes shimmer a bit brighter when you talk about his brother.

“Sometimes people misunderstand him because he acts detached. The truth is when he starts caring about something, he cares deeply. That’s why he has that cool, uncaring facade,” he adds as he stares at the surface of the table.

When he raises his gaze to you, you look a bit mystified.

“I’m sorry! I rambled a bit there, didn’t I?” he laughs tensely.

You smile graciously and wave your palms. “No! It’s fine. I just wasn’t sure why you’re telling me this,” you admit with an apprehensive simper.

He grins warmheartedly. “I just felt like sharing,” he answers even though the real reason is because he’s convinced his brother likes you too and you might need to know that aspect of him.

Kei wouldn’t have allowed you to take him home no matter how drunk he is if he isn’t comfortable with you. The entertaining exchange you three had on the stairs was another clue. Lastly, Kei let you sleep in his room and you’re even wearing his clothes.

“Has he always been like that?” you ask.

“Not really,” his smile fades, for he knows that he’s a big factor why Kei is extremely apprehensive of getting too passionate about something. He brushes it off and continues, “But he’s always had that sarcasm ever since he was little.”

You giggle at his answer. “Why am I not surprised?” you say amusedly before your eyes wander to the window.

“The sun’s up,” you announce softly. “I should go back to Tsukki’s room. I need to change and leave soon so I can attend my earliest class.”

“Of course! Thanks for the small chat, y/n,” he says dearly.

“Any time, Aki-san,” you respond buoyantly then stand up. Instead of going back to Kei’s room, you head to the fridge and get a bottle of water.

“He’ll probably be thirsty as f… hell when he wakes up,” you explain, receptive of Kei’s condition even though his drunk brother must have given you a hard time last night. You bow thoughtfully then head up.

He watches you get back upstairs, careful not to make so much sound from your steps since it’s still early. Then he walks to the kitchen to get him some coffee while thinking how well you suit his younger brother. Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu @expectonothinfromme @finnydraws @namelessidentity @hqbeesun @yatoatyourservice @mrkozume @suzuyamitsuki @celestialarchiveshq @yongboxerrr @gomenpudding @kutiekoge @fizzfrick @flamingosis @korean-bbq @ihaterainbowsprinkles @red-lint @backtonormalthings @borpcorp @lonelyheartxn @venomouscreatures @lucyrocks86 @shawtiie @honestlysora

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #tsukishima smut #tsukishima kei #haikyuu x reader

188 notes · View notes

sondepoch · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 1

Written in the Stars (Lucifer x Angel!Reader)

Four thousand years is a long time. In the absence of your most cherished friend, it feels even longer. But when a certain student exchange program in the Devildom reunites you and Lucifer, things aren't the same. Because four thousand years of separation is a long time. And the love you once felt for Lucifer has changed into something different—something forbidden. But that might not even be your biggest problem, because with each passing day, your holy wings are turning blacker and blacker.

MASTERLIST

The weight around your shoulders is unnatural.

You shift the fabric as you stand, gently pushing it back while fiddling with the golden clasp that keeps the thick, Celestial silk wrapped around your body, before forcing yourself to stop. It had been Simeon who had helped you put it on this morning. For good reason, too—the angel is blessed with a surprising degree of lean muscle and strength—but where he could easily carry the cape and drape it around your body, you can barely lift the thing.

It's heavy for a reason, he had told you when helping you wear it. We can't stay in our angel forms at the Academy, so the High Seraphs said that this will help remind us of the weight of our wings.

And while the fabric is definitely as heavy as your wings, it does no justice to the true feel of your snowy feathers, a poor simulation of the holy pinions.

You sigh, pressing your hands against the closest object to stabilize your body, wishing that you could bring your wings out to do so. You'd begged to come here, begged and cried and pleaded with the High Seraphs to give you the chance to see Lucifer one last time before eternally returning to the Celestial Realm, and they'd warned you that the experience wouldn't be pleasant. That you'd be forced to take this unorthodox human form, deprived of your wings and halo, surrounded by demons and the unbearable heat of the Devildom.

But you hadn't faltered then, and you certainly won't falter now.

It's for Lucifer, right? You'd do anything for Lucifer.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you hold your body steady by gripping the tall, wooden chair that Diavolo had been sitting in when he'd greeted the three of you.

"Welcome to the Devildom!" He'd exclaimed enthusiastically, a grin so wide stretched across his face that you couldn't help but offer your own smile in return. The man had been nothing but pleasant when introducing himself to you. Each word, he spoke with purpose. His tone bordered on intimidating when he declared his own titles—proudly naming himself Lord Diavolo, overseer of the nine circles of hell, heir to the Devildom, prince of the abyss—but he immediately expressed what a pleasure it was to meet your acquaintance, honorably referring to you all with your own titles. Again, with purpose. His formality was to remind you that you're all just as important to your realms as he is to his. Just as crucial, powerful, and strong.

"Luke," He had proclaimed with a smile, his grin almost proud as he gazed upon the youngest of you three. "Child of Chamuel, heir to the twelfth Holy Protectorate." He'd then turned to your best friend, the oldest of the group: "Simeon: child of Selaphiel, defender of the High Seraphs." And last, but absolutely not the least, he had faced you. "MC: child of light, equalizer of the Celestial Realm."

The man had proceeded to shower you all with gifts, casually instructing his butler to have the larger presents delivered to Purgatory Hall, the location of your year-long stay. He'd offered to give you all a tour of the Devildom, looking almost eager as he began leading you out the door—but he hesitated at the last minute.

"Ah, MC." His eyes watched you carefully as he spoke, waiting to see your reaction. "If you don't mind, would you be alright with staying here? Lucifer explicitly requested that he be the one to greet and show you around, though it's entirely understandable if you should wish to remain with the group for—"

"Not at all!" You'd exclaimed immediately, excitement flooding your veins at the mention of the man who's been dominating your thoughts for the past four thousand years. Diavolo's relief was apparent at your immediate acceptance of his offer, and you almost had to laugh.

Had he been concerned that you wouldn't want to be alone with Lucifer? Surely he's heard all the stories about the Morningstar of light and the equalizer of the heavens. Did he think your feelings for Lucifer would have changed after his fall? You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. For all the stories and songs written about the two of you, people never seem to understand the true depth of your love for Lucifer.

Then again, the written history has never done a good job at portraying truth, has it?

You sigh, turning your head to stare out the windows of the room. This is the Student Council Office, you know. Small wonder. It has a marvelous view of the entire RAD campus, and really, you don't think you'll have the full map memorized even after you've spent a year here.

You smile, eyes skirting over the immense campus.

You, Simeon, and Luke had arrived in the Devildom just as the sun was beginning to make its journey back under the horizon; by now, the sun has almost completely set. Still, the remnants of its illumination light up the various fountains and statues littered around the campus. There are eight buildings set up for classroom use, nine buildings in total—likely modeled after the nine circles of hell—and each is connected by a modernistic sidewalk three wingspans wide. Every intersection is marked by a different ornamental tablet, engraved with what you can only assume is Devildom history, and the last remaining rays of sunlight jump off the various metals like fiery dancers of dusk. There's a large field in the distance, where you see six demons playing some sport you don't recognize, and you'd stare even longer at the strange forest in the background if not for the sound of a door opening behind you.

You freeze.

All of a sudden, you wish you hadn't been staring out at the window but at the door instead, because your body is stiller than the statues you'd been admiring outside, unwilling to move an inch.

Fingers tensing around the chair you'd been casually gripping, you feel your throat bob as you swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

It's the moment you've been waiting for.

There's no doubt about it: you can feel it in the shift of the darkness in the room, in the subtle scent of the cologne that after all these years he's still wearing, in the quiet but sharp breath he takes that you were once so used to hearing.

Mustering up all the courage you have, you turn your head, preparing yourself for what you've been waiting four thousand years for.

Your head moves slowly, impossibly slow. You can't bring it to turn any faster, even though all you want to do is see the man you've spent so long yearning for.

And then you do.

A strangled gasp leaves you throat as all your breath deserts you, the man looking as magnificent and glorious and breathtaking as he did the last time you saw him. You stare into his eyes, two red rubies that shine not with holiness or darkness or anything but love as they gaze back at you, and then whatever restraint you had vanishes, and you're throwing yourself into Lucifer's arms: crying, whimpering, sobbing as you embrace him the way you've wanted to for so long.

"MC," he murmurs softly, his own voice thick with emotion as he lifts you, spinning you around gracefully as he used to so long ago. "What's this?" He asks, gaze traveling to the golden clasp that keeps the dense cape wrapped around your shoulders, wordlessly unclasping it.

And as the Celestial silk falls, so do the last of your inhibitions, leaving you truly weightless in Lucifer's arms as he holds you tighter, fingers running through your hair the way he used to.

You know he's fallen now, a demon, but nothing about him seems different. His embrace is still comforting as he holds you, his hands still rub small circles into your back, he still presses weightless kisses to your forehead as he holds you. Angel or demon, he's still the Lucifer that raised you, the Lucifer that taught you everything you know. He's still Lucifer.

"I missed you," You whisper, well aware that he can feel your tears as you bury your head in his neck. "So much."

"I know," He murmurs back, his voice carrying the rare softness that he only unveils for you. "I've missed you too."

The two of you remain like that for far longer than is necessary, simply basking in the blissful feeling of being together until even the sun has gone down, knowing that its warmth is unnecessary now that the two of you have each other.

Even when Lucifer finally begins to pull away, you let out a reluctant whine. You've been deprived of his company for four thousand years, surely he can give you one more minute?

"Don't look at me like that," He says, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Come. Don't you want a tour of the campus? You'll be staying here the entire year, after all."

You grudgingly agree, removing yourself from Lucifer's arms while staring at the fabric on the ground. Now that it's off your shoulders, you certainly do feel much more free—but Simeon was absolutely right. No matter how heavy the fabric was, it really did remind you of your wings. You feel naked without it.

Lowering your body to the ground, you summon all of your strength in an attempt to lift the thick cloth up, trying your best to raise it higher than a foot off the ground. Next to you, Lucifer lets out an audible laugh as he watches you struggle until, finally, you collapse to the ground. "I give up," You mumble, light pants escaping your lips. Your muscles genuinely ache as you look up at your old friend, a defeated expression cast on your face.

"Celestial silk, is it?" Lucifer crouches, lifting the fabric. "Even heavier than I remember, but still manageable." He smiles lightly as he finds the clasps, fingers deftly hooking the golden fasteners in place until the cape is secured around your body once more.

It's a comfortable motion for you, and familiar, too. When Lucifer was still with you in the Celestial Realm, he had taken it upon himself to be your guardian—understandable, given the nature of your birth—and had practically raised you himself. It was Lucifer, who whispered stories to you every night until you slept. Lucifer, who taught you how to cook and bathe and read. Lucifer, who would help you dress in the mornings, while you blankly sat on the floor, just as you're doing now.

"Why are you wearing something so heavy? I doubt you can even stand straight for long, when this weighs as much as you." The demon's expression is intrigued as he pinches the fabric between his gloved fingers.

"It's not just me. Simeon is wearing the same thing. His cloak is even longer, actually, and heavier, too. And it's really bothersome, but without this, it just feels so unnatural to be in this form. At least, with this around my shoulders, it feels like I still sort of have my wings."

Lucifer nods. "That's smart. I think that was the hardest adjustment after the fall. It took me a while to figure out how to walk normally, without my wings weighing me back. Even in my demon form, I..." He trails off, a dark look cast on his face. You hold your breath, waiting for him to continue, but he says nothing.

"Lucifer?" You ask, bringing a hand to his cheek, gently angling his face back toward you. "After the Great Celestial War and your fall, I heard...the messengers would say..." You swallow, realizing that beating around the bush isn't going to help either of you right now. "They said you lost your wings."

Lucifer's eyes widen in surprise, and the shocked response is enough to tell you that the rumors were false. But then the demon's gaze darkens once more, and you can't figure out what's going on in his head.

When he next speaks, his voice is soft, quiet enough to be lost in the sound of your own breathing, if you're not careful. "If I show you my true form, will it scare you?"

Your breath hitches in your throat.

His true form. His demon form.

Against your will, the image of Lucifer's angel form flashes through your mind—the image you'd cut out from your history textbook, before anyone could take it away. A time when Lucifer's pride had been given to him by the realm, rather than stemming from within him. When he had six divine wings and the Mark of the Blessed on his forehead. Dressed in full white garb, every fine detail outlined in rubies and gold, you've never stopped picturing that Lucifer as the true Lucifer in your mind.

But times have changed.

Four thousand years have passed, and the Lucifer who dressed in white is no longer a reality.

"Show me," You whisper, voice earnest.

Closing his eyes, it takes barely a second for Lucifer's darkness to manifest, the black wings curling around his frame and the familiar Mark of the Blessed on his forehead. But only after a second look do you realize that neither are quite the same—the six wings you're used to seeing being reduced to four, and the mark on Lucifer's forehead something twisted, something unholy, no longer shining with light: a small diamond of skin blackened with the retraction of whatever blessing was once laid upon his fair head.

"Lucifer..." You whisper, unable to say anything other than his name. "You're beautiful."

The demon's eyes, once dropped to the floor, look up at you in surprise, evidently not expecting to hear that of all things. Indeed, the light favored Lucifer brilliantly, but the darkness brings out a different side of the man: unfamiliar, strange, and foreign—but undeniably beautiful, in its own right.

Before he can say a word against you, you wrap him in another embrace, this time letting your hands run along his wings, savoring the sensation. Their color may have changed, but they're just as soft as you remember, each feather delicate and majestic. You allow your hands to trail all the way to where they meet at Lucifer's back, hesitating before running your hands along the small strip in between the four wings.

A shudder travels through Lucifer as your fingertips graze the spot. "Don't—don't—"

You calmly move your hands, sliding them back into the wings you love, understanding that you must have been touching the location where Lucifer's two center wings were ripped out during his fall. The sheer thought is painful enough; you can't begin to imagine how awful it must have been.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have been there for you," You murmur into Lucifer's ear, kissing the black diamond on his forehead. His body trembles once more, but he welcomes your touch, gripping your shoulders tightly even as he slowly shifts back to his human form. It's a long time before he speaks, but when he does, he's composed once more.

"Don't be. I was relieved that the High Seraphs had the sense to keep you locked away during the Great Celestial War. You would have done something foolish, like get yourself banished with me." You don't respond, knowing all too well that you'd entertained the thought numerous times. "Come," Lucifer murmurs, finally standing up. "It's time I gave you the tour I promised."

You nod your head, attempting to stand up. Key word: attempting. Your silk cloak drags you back down before you can even straighten your legs, causing you to collapse rather ungraciously on the floor.

"How did even manage to put this on in the morning?" Lucifer asks, shaking his head as he bends down and lifts you to your feet. "You can barely stand properly. Did you enchant it with a spell or some such?"

"Not exactly. I still struggle a bit when it comes to object enchantments." You hide a faint blush, sheepishly glancing away. "Simeon helped me dress this morning."

You glance up at Lucifer, only to see him averting his eyes, a strange expression wrapped around his face. You don't recognize the look, but before you can ask Lucifer about it, he's speaking: "I see. That much is unsurprising, I suppose." His voice is calm and controlled, but from his face, you can tell that it's taking all his effort to do so. He feigns a sense of casualness, not meeting your eyes. "There have been rumors in the Devildom about you and Simeon. That the equalizer of the Celestial Realm and the defender of the High Seraphs are...involved." You don't comment, but Lucifer almost seems to choke on that last word. Still, you let the man continue, watching as his steady voice wavers. "I suppose the rumors are true?"

Your lips twitch in amusement.

Is it jealousy that's casting Lucifer's face into this unappealing frown, the demon desperately trying to conceal his distaste but failing so miserably? You're unable to stop a brief sound of laughter from escaping your lips, a quick shake of your shoulders, but Lucifer catches it.

"What. What? What?" His voice is sharp, irritated as he gives you his usual glare, one that you've missed all too much.

"Simeon and I are friends," You tell him, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Nothing more, Lucifer. There's no need to be jealous."

"I am not jealous," The demon hisses, eyebrows fuddling together in a demonstration meant to be intimidating, but you only find it cute.

"Relax!" You exclaim, consciously stopping yourself from squealing with merriment. "I was only teasing. I would never involve myself with another man—didn't I promise you that I would get your approval before doing so?"

Lucifer's eyes widen in surprise, as if he'd long forgotten that exchange. But his next words reveal that his thoughts were quite the opposite: "I didn't realize you had any recollection of that promise."

"How could I forget?" You ask, the memory clear in your mind even to this day.

"It's just..." Lucifer sighs softly, his eyes dropping to your hair, where he brushes a strand of the (h/c) behind your ear. "You were only a child when you said it."

"A child? Lucifer, I grew up in a literal hour," You argue, recalling how the High Seraphs had described you being born as a baby and then having turned into a young woman before they'd even had the chance to give you a name. It's angel stuff—not wholly unheard of, since Lucifer's birth was somewhat the same, but definitely not the most common thing out there. Then again, nothing about the story of your birth is common.

"Yes, but you'd only been in the realm for three days. You might have looked older, but you were young and inexperienced in the ways of the world, foolish enough to make such a preposterous promise." Lucifer chuckles, crossing his arms as he remembers your youth. "I do hope that you haven't been denying your heart on my account? As long as the suitor makes you happy, I would support any union you might partake in."

"I know, Lucifer." You smile up at the man. He may be a demon now, but inside, he's still the man you adore. You press a delicate kiss to his cheek. "When I made that promise to you, you told me the same thing."

***

Lucifer had promised Diavolo that he would handle your student tour of the RAD, that he would show you all the prettiest fountains and loveliest statues and best restaurants. And when he'd assured his prince of such a thing, he had been sincere.

But as he leads you out of the student council building, there's really only one thing he deems of immediate importance: how to get to the House of Lamentation from your residence in Purgatory Hall. Doubtless, he'll ensure that he's there to accompany you the first few times, but as he makes the walk with you, he can't help but feel a familiar sense of worry bubble in his stomach.

A part of him still can't believe that it's been four thousand years since he last saw you.

You've barely changed.

Your smile is still just as bright, your hands are just as soft, your hair dances in the wind the exact same way—but there are subtle differences, too. Lucifer swallows as he notes the womanly shape that you've taken on over the centuries, the small of your waist, the curve of your hips, the tantalizing dip of your collarbone.

The demon is unable to take his eyes off you, desperately wondering who in heaven designed your uniform. Diavolo had decided not to force the standard RAD uniform on any of the exchange students, and for good reason. The Devildom is too close to hell, and unbearably hot for anyone that isn't already used to its temperature.

But Lucifer had still expected the angels to be wearing somewhat modest clothes. He'd assumed that they'd arrive in angel attire, the garb simply enchanted with spells to resist the heat. Not these outfits that resemble the strippers he's seen in Asmo's clubs!

His eyes are glued to the thin mesh fabric covering your shoulders. It does an awful job of concealing skin. In fact, it only draws more attention to your upper body and—really—does the outfit have to be sleeveless? And is it truly necessary for the sides of your waist to be exposed?

Lucifer exhales lightly, his jaw tensing. None of his brothers would dare try anything inappropriate with you, you're too precious to them for that, and he'd do his best to shield you from the lustful eyes of his peers. But even then, how long would Lucifer be able to protect you from himself?

He forces himself to look away from your body, knowing that he would kill a lesser demon for the very thoughts reverberating through his own mind.

It's ridiculous that he even feels this way, he reasons with himself. He's practically your older brother. He knows you think of him as such. So why is he looking at you like a woman, when he should be looking at you as a sister?

Off limits. Lucifer scowls, staring forward as he drills the word into his mind. Off limits. MC is off limits. MC is off limits!

But the more he tries to ignore you, the more he's drawn to you, to the light sway of your hips as you move, to the elegant grace you've cultivated over the years, the dazzling smile that he can only describe as enchanting, where it had once been cute and endearing.

Is it because he's a demon, that he feels this way around you? Because it's now in his nature to give in to temptation, where it had once been in his blood to resist? The thought weighs heavily on his mind, because that means that it would be impossible for you to ever feel the same way about him. And as much as Lucifer hates himself for thinking it, that prospect seems to be even worse than the notion of you being foolish enough reciprocate his feelings.

"Lucifer?"

The demon halts his thoughts, staring at you in surprise. "I'm sorry, MC. My mind was elsewhere. What were you saying?"

He watches you giggle, an action he's seen you do thousands of times, but it's never made him feel such a strong urge to wrap his arms around you and hide you away from everyone else.

"I was talking about your youngest brother. Though I think he's been named the fourth-born? I'm talking about Satan. I know he was born a little before the Great Celestial War began, but the High Seraphs isolated me immediately after, so I still haven't met him. Do you think he'll like me?"

Lucifer blinks. You've certainly grown, but you've still retained your angelic innocence. "Don't be ridiculous," He murmurs quietly. "How could anyone not like you?"

The beaming smile you give Lucifer is worth the agitation he feels when he realizes how smitten he is with you.

You're off limits, he tells himself once more. Off limits.

Just as he will not allow any other demons to lay a hand on you, he will not allow himself to touch you.

"MC?" He asks, eyes glued to your exposed shoulders, all too aware of how it's only furthering the temptation within him. When you turn to him, a questioning gaze on your face, it's all he can do to take off his coat without letting his embarrassment show on his face. "It's cold." It's not. "Wear my jacket for the time being."

Wordlessly, he helps you slip it onto your shoulders, lifting the Celestial silk for you and then unclasping it altogether, not failing to notice the blissful sigh you give as he takes the weight into his own arms, allowing you to freely slip into his jacket.

He breathes a sigh of relief when you continue talking, the demon finally eased of the tempting sight of your exposed body. He turns back to you, hoping to listen to whatever subject you're currently ranting so passionately about.

And fails.

Even with his jacket wrapped around you, Lucifer finds that his gaze is just as hungry as before, only further stemmed along by the sight of you in his clothes, your smaller figure entirely enveloped by his jacket.

By his side, Lucifer's hand clenches into a fist.

Thou shalt not covet, he tells himself, the words still engraved on his heart after all these years. Thou shalt not covet. But staring at you, talking so animatedly next to him, so comfortable and trusting by his side, he can't stop.

No matter how many times the words echo in his mind, they fall short of his heart.

He covets.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: And that's the first chapter of this series :D Just so you guys know, I currently plan to update this work on Tuesdays and Saturdays - and based on my current drafts, this whole thing will be either 8 or 9 chapters, so not too long! I hope that you enjoy this - things start to get real in the next chapter <3 Expect a slight slow burn? Ngl, I've done more planning than usual for this fic, but this project is also bigger than I'm used to taking on - regardless, I'll do my best to make sure that the content I give you guys is my best effort :D

Comment & Like

Next Update: 5/23/20

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

379 notes · View notes

true-blue-megamind · 4 years ago

Text

Daylight and Dark Ch. 3 - Ares

Photo by Joe Waranont

Some Yuletide silliness and... At last! Enter the villain!

CHAPTER RATING: Teen; FULL FICTION RATING: Explicit. WARNINGS FOR ENTIRE WORK: violence, sex, language, references to prior domestic abuse, and rock n’ roll! CHAPTER WARNINGS: brief description of violence.

There is nothing NSFW in this chapter, but it is a bit long, so I am adding a Click Here to Keep Reading link. You can also read the entire entire fiction HERE.

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

There were moments in life when Roxanne couldn't help but think about perspective: about how funny it was that a person could never clearly see the road to their destination until that destination had been reached. She'd felt that way one bitter winter morning, in her office, when she had suddenly realized that she was becoming one of those sentimental hack reporters she'd always hated. She'd felt that way on the long-ago windy spring afternoon when she had finally understood that she would never have feelings for Metro Man, and she'd felt it on the early summer day last year when she'd learned, to her own surprise, she was in love with his former nemesis. Roxanne had that same feeling tonight. Stepping out of the taxi Megamind had insisted on paying for she'd immediately been met by three brainbots, two of which immediately took charge of her small suitcase. Greeting them with pats, she had walked the last block through the biting December chill with her unusual escort bowging at her heels. The little cyborgs had darted away once their charge reached Megamind's invisible doorstep, probably to inform their master of her arrival. Now she stood alone and stared at a cross-stitched sampler, hung incongruously beside what appeared to be a solid wall, which read: "Lair Sweet Lair" in slightly crooked letters. What was he up to?

That September afternoon on the balcony, after the first night they'd made love, had been a turning point in Roxanne and Megamind's relationship. She had expected that, of course, but now that she had arrived at this still-mysterious milestone in her life, something in the back of her mind teased that it had been even more important than she'd realized. They had shared deep, personal sorrows, hidden from all other eyes, and an impenetrable glass wall had been removed. She realized, at this moment, that something undefinable had happened as well. Ever since that day, something had begun building between them, unnoticed and unspoken, creating a channel into which two spirits were poured and mingled. Try though she might, however, that something refused to slide into focus. It was both elating and terrifying, for Roxanne had not fully expected the cozy intensity that she and Megamind had found. How was it possible to feel so relaxed, so at home, around someone that being near him was like snuggling into a favorite sweater, while still feeling so powerfully and passionately attached to that same person that he made you antsy, strangely warm, and a little nervous? How was it even possible to feel simultaneously self-conscious and comfortable in the first place?

The oddity of those emotions was disconcerting enough, but worse still was the fact that Roxanne had realized that she no longer loved solitude, because solitude meant Megamind wasn't around. True, she still enjoyed many of the same quiet hobbies— reading books, binging sci-fi movies, solving crossword puzzles—but now she was only happy if a certain blue alien was beside her, busily sketching design schematics for his latest invention, or pointing out in hilariously descriptive detail why a particular piece of film prop "space tech" wouldn't actually work at all. She had always disdained those couples who seemed to be attached at the hip: the sort that showed up to every party together and skipped any function one of them couldn't attend. Now it seemed she was becoming half of one. Worst of all, she didn't mind. She liked it. She was sublimely happy with it.

What is wrong with me?

She and Megamind had fallen into an easy rhythm as serene and unquestioning as the deepest friendship, yet had retained all the fire and ardor of a new infatuation. A traitorous little voice in her head asked if this was the way people felt before they got married, moved to the suburbs, gained ten pounds, and started daydreaming about babies. She refused to listen, refused to even consider the possibility of leaving chic professionalism for matrimonial doom, but that same little voice reminded her that it wouldn't be so bad as long as it was with Megamind. Despite all her denials, Roxanne had to admit that something new had grown between herself and her favorite hero, inching up, bit by bit, undetected, until suddenly she noticed it was all around her. Small kindnesses, shared moments, camaraderie, and passion had all built into something beautiful, strange, and a little scary.

Which is what brought her to tonight and her current situation, as she stood shivering in the winter evening, looking at that foolish sampler and wondering why the sight of it set alarm bells ringing in her head. Megamind had invited her over, insisting that he had a Christmas gift that couldn't wait for Christmas, and she had not considered the oddity of the date until this moment.

Why now? Why tonight?

That was it. Roxanne's eyes widened with a realization that should have been obvious. Today was December 12th. Exactly eighteen years ago Margaret Ritchi, Roxanne's mother, had taken a turn too quickly, swerved on icy pavement, and ended her life. Although it wasn't unusual for Roxanne to visit her lover in the middle of the week, it was unlike Megamind to ask her over at a specific time, especially when she had just gotten back into town, tired after a business trip, which indicated that he probably had something planned. It would be exactly like him to researched old traffic incidents just so that he could invite her over to cheer her up on the anniversary of her mother's death.

The question was, was he just planning on distracting her from her memories, or did he have something more serious in mind?

"Miss Ritchi," Minion appeared through the hologram wall, less than two feet away from Roxanne. She had to crane her neck up to look into the fishy face set atop his six-foot-tall robotic body. "Miss Ritchi, if you please, could you come inside? He's been watching you on the monitor for ten minutes and he's starting to worry."

"Oh, I… Of course. I'm sorry Minion. I just—"

It was always odd watching a fish smile. "No apologies needed. Just come inside before you freeze."

He ushered her through with the wave of a metallic arm, and Roxanne stopped so suddenly that he nearly crashed into her as he followed.

"Oh, my…"

Garlands. The Evil Lair was strung with garlands of faux evergreen twigs, plastic holly, and red and gold ribbons. Multiple strings of colored lights, hung with no apparent order or plan in mind, blinked, chased, and sparkled in crisscrossing lines until the flashing dials and blinking buttons in the workroom looked like no more than additional decorations. In the middle of the yuletide chaos stood a massive Christmas tree, its top nearly lost in the shadows of the high ceiling. Brainbots hovered and buzzed around it, trimming it in a haphazard fashion that Roxanne suspected explained the random order of the rest of the decorations. Most of the items being hung on the tree were normal— glass balls, silvery snowflakes, diminutive, jolly Santas— but every now and again a brain bot added a shiny bit of wire or a large metal nut. Christmas carols were blaring from the nearby stereo.

"Roxanne! What do you think?" Megamind's happy voice startled her from her contemplation. He jumped down the last two industrial steps leading up to the second floor, his face glowing with good cheer and one arm sweeping out proudly to indicate the scene. Roxanne turned her eyes back to the seasonal décor and the happily buzzing robots. After the initial shock, it really wasn't so bad. In fact, it was almost cute, like the messy decorations of enthusiastic children.

"It's wonderful," she answered, turning back to her lover with a genuine smile.

He beamed at her. "I'm so glad you like it! And look," he added with a sly smile. "We've got rocket-toe!"

"Mistletoe, silly," Roxanne smiled, leaning up to give him a soft kiss.

"Rocket, missile, what does it matter? Missiles have rocket propulsion systems."

"Uh-huh," Roxanne's expression was all wry amusement.

"The early Soviet Vostok rockets were based on the R-7 ICBM," Megamind informed her. "So I can see no reason whatsoever why rocket-toe should be any less—"

"Megamind?"

"Hmmm?"

"It's still called Mistletoe."

"Potato, tomato, potato, cucumber," he answered with a teasing grin.

Roxanne laughed. "Cucumber? Really? Why cucumber?"

"Well, they both grow on vines. Yet tomatoes are technically fruits while cucumbers are vegetables."

Roxanne laughed. "I always thought that was kind of weird. I mean: why?"

"They're gourds."

"What?"

"Cucumbers. They're gourds."

"Megamind, I was talking about the tomatoes-are-fruits thing."

"Ah, well, botanically, they're ripened flower ovaries that contain seeds, and—"

"Sir—" interjected Minion.

"And this will really blow your mind: so are zucchinis!"

"Sir—"

"Think about it: cucumbers and zucchinis, so similar yet so different."

"Sir! Didn't you have something to show Miss Ritchi?"

"Oh! Of course!" his face lit up, and he grabbed Roxanne's hand. "Come up! You'll love this! Wait until you see the dining room!"

"Dining… But you don't have a—"

"We do now! Follow me!"

He pulled her bodily past the command room and back up the metal stairs, her surprise growing with every step. The conference room near the kitchen— which had never seemed to serve much purpose since any meetings involved only Megamind, Minion, and, during the last several months, Roxanne— had, indeed, been transformed into a cozy dining room. Another garland swagged across the doorway, and a dark wood table, set as if in expectation of a festive meal, displayed a centerpiece of holly and ribbons surrounding three crème-colored candles. Beside the industrial stairs leading to the third floor— their banisters also bedecked in Yuletide fashion— the plain bathroom that had once served the offices over the factory had been updated and expanded. It looked as if it belonged in a wealthy grandma's house— if Granny had decided to go Goth. A largely unused, cavernous storage space had been turned into a sitting room. It proudly boasted not only a black leather sofa, matching recliner, and built-in dark wood bookshelves stuffed with second-hand volumes, but also an old-fashioned pot-bellied stove that Roxanne was almost certain was against fire codes. In one corner, a more elegantly decorated Christmas tree— probably Minion's work— stood glittering with white lights and antique glass ornaments.

Even that wasn't the most shocking addition to the new living space, however.

"Megamind, there aren't any external walls here. How on earth did you put in windows?"

"Isn't it great?!" he threw himself into the chair, grabbed a remote control from a side pocket, and aimed it at the window. Instantly the view of Metro City Beach was replaced by a forested mountain range.

"It's absurdly simple, really: just a high-definition plasma monitor that I mounted behind framed glass and connected to video feeds that I've had set up in various locations! That conversation we had last autumn about your apartment windows gave me the idea. Look! If you don't like the view, you just change the scenery with a press of a button!"

He clicked the control a couple of more times, bringing up a snow-covered prairie, a quaint French village, and a tropical reef.

"Minion picked out the last one," he explained. "It also interfaces with the supercomputer, so you can use it for research, calls… Look, the frames retract for a better view!" he demonstrated. "Then you push this button, and... voila!" A holographic keyboard had appeared in midair above the remote. Megamind set the device down, and, to Roxanne's astonishment, began typing. A browser popped up on the "window," and he navigated to a video featuring winter scenery to the accompaniment of a Boston Pop's Christmas album.

"Megamind, that's really amazing," Roxanne managed. "All of this is, really... I mean, you've made it so—" she almost said "homey," but bit back the word and finished with: "comfortable."

"I'm glad to hear you say that!" There was something warm in his voice that both thrilled and frightened her. "Oh! Oh! Oh! But it gets even better!" He leaped up and tugged her out of the room. "Let me show you what we've done upstairs!"

The third floor, once comprised of large executive offices, was where Minion and Megamind slept. Roxanne had been there many times in the past weeks, though she was admittedly usually too preoccupied to give much attention to the décor.

Megamind's room had changed from a blacked-out bachelor pad to a stylishly Gothic bedchamber. The walls were a rich blue. A full suite of carved ebony furniture—bed, wardrobe, nightstand, and chest of drawers— had replaced the previous collection of mismatched thrift finds. The ornate four-poster sported a new satin coverlet set in hues of gray, black, and cobalt, and was piled with silky-looking ash-colored pillows that Roxanne suspected matched the sheets. An impressionist oil painting of a historic street at night— rendered almost entirely in blue shades and black shadows— and a large mirror both hung in antique silver frames. Two lamps and a small chandelier, all wrought iron, completed the picture. It belonged on the cover of Evil Lair and Garden. Or maybe as the set of a photoshoot for Bad Boys Weekly. That would be better. All it lacked was its sexy male occupant lounging on the covers. The thought made Roxanne shiver with delight.

Minion's room reminded her of a garden pool, all greens, browns, and teals. Its bamboo furnishings and simple stone accents gave it a slightly Asian ambiance. The style was completely different from Megamind's Vampire Chic bedroom. Full of clean lines and abstract art, it looked more like a post-modern interior design catalog than a Goth culture magazine.

"He picked everything out himself," Megamind was saying. "You should have seen him, like a kid in a candy store! When I told him I wouldn't invade his privacy by bringing you to his room, he was utterly offended! He insisted that if I didn't show you he would never speak to me again. And that I could expect literally everything he cooked to be smothered in mayonnaise for at least a week!" The blue man made a show of shuddering in horror. Looking around, he added: "I should have let him redecorate years ago."

"I'm curious, why is there no bed?"

"Roxanne, he's a fish. He lives in a fishbowl."

The grin she gave him was three parts knowing and one part sly triumph. "And so he has a bedroom because….?"

Megamind blushed a little under his blue tint. "Well, I mean, you know..."

Cocking one arm to rest on her hip, Roxanne gently poked his chest with her other forefinger. "I always knew you were a big softy deep inside, even when you were a supervillain."

He spluttered. "That isn't… I am not… I was disgustingly horrifying! And..."

She laid a finger over his lips. "I always knew, and I love you for it." Smiling into his emerald eyes, she tilted her face up to give him a long, deep kiss. "Now, before you take me back to your new bedroom, tell me: what's that other door at the end of the hall?"

"That, well," He smiled and rubbed one ear, a nervous gesture she had come to adore. "That's my early Christmas present to you. Come have a look."

He took her hand gently this time, and when he pushed open the third door, Roxanne's mouth fell open.

"Ta-da!" he spun to face her, cloak billowing. His tone was all bold showmanship as he swung his arms wide to encompass their surroundings, but Roxanne knew him well enough to recognize the uneasiness hidden behind the bravado.

She stared around wide-eyed at the vaguely familiar round room. Everything in it had been changed so completely that it took her a moment to recognize the place she had awoken during her final kidnapping. The industrial elevator and second floor had been removed. A spiral staircase now led to a cozy loft and catwalk lined with wooden bookcases. All of the equipment had been moved out, the domed walls and ceiling had been expertly plastered and painted, and, where there had once been a telescope with mechanical shutters, there were now two glass doors leading onto a private balcony overlooking Lake Michigan. It was… perfect. Wonderfully, frighteningly perfect. Her own style—too formal to be modern but too clean to be antique—her favorite colors—sage green, sky blue, and soft ivory with cheerful red accents. The bookshelves—obviously custom-made to fit the curving walls—and few other pieces of furniture were warmly-stained oak that exactly matched the contents of her apartment. There were several empty spaces where she was clearly intended to move in her things. Roxanne knew she should have been thrilled—all the work, care, and expense he'd put into this would be enough to make any one of those silly interns goofy with elation—but all she could feel was cold dread.

"I was thinking we could put your living room suite upstairs to make a reading nook! And look!" He grabbed another remote control from a bracket on the wall. "I've renovated the alligator pit!" With the push of a button, a round trap door—one the reporter remembered with something almost like fondness— opened, and a half-moon desk with a cushy office chair rose on a platform to click into place with the rest of the floor. "I've, ah, also included controls in a hidden wall panel. I know how you lose remotes." He paused expectantly. "So, what do you think?" His smile was starting to look a little forced around the edges.

"Wow, Megamind," she tried not to sound unhappy. His feelings could be so easily crushed, though he excelled at hiding it. "This is…unexpected..."

His face fell slightly, and she searched quickly for something more positive to say.

Deciding on gentle honesty, she added: "I mean, this is exactly the way I would have decorated it myself. I had no idea…"

"Really?" God, she hated the vulnerable hope in his eyes.

"It's beautiful. It is. And sweet. But…"

"But?" he urged uncertainly, nervously fiddling with one of the studs on his black leather gauntlet.

"It just… This… All of this… It's happening so fast." It sounded like a canned response even to her.

True to form, her blue-skinned lover tried to put on a brave face with humor. "Oh, come on, you already sleep here more than you do your own place. This would make everything easier."

"Megamind, this is serious. I'm not sure if I'm ready yet."

"If there's one thing I've learned from all my battles, it's that there are some things you'll never feel ready for, but if you really want it, you just have to jump in anyway."

"Okay, but this? We've never even discussed me moving in, and this is just one step away from being married, and… I just…" she sighed. "I love you. I do, but I've never lived with someone before, and I… I need a little time to think this over." she finished lamely. Seeing his unhappy face, she added: "I'm not necessarily saying no, just...not yet."

"But Roxanne—"

"This is a wonderful gesture, but it's so sudden. I just don't think I can."

"Of course you can. Please, Roxanne, Sweetheart, say yes. Stay here with me," his voice took on an almost pleading tone. "It doesn't have to feel like we're living together. That's why you have a separate bedroom. Whenever you need time to yourself, you know I'll always give it to you."

"Megamind, it's not—"

"This doesn't have to be any more than you want it to be."

"Megamind, please—"

"I'll never invade your privacy unless you want me to." He dropped his voice to a sultry purr. "And when I do, I'll invade it very, very well."

"That isn't what—"

"I promise I'll be the best roommate you've ever had. We share a bathroom," he indicated the door on the left-hand wall. "The plumbing was insufficient for two, but there is a double sink. And I can use the facilities downstairs if you need me to."

"That's really sweet, but it's not the issue. I'm not ready for this."

"Stay anyway."

"I can't"

He crossed his arms. "Can't, or won't?"

"Why are you being so pushy about this?! You never push! And now you're asking me to give up my apartment, change my life… Megamind, that's a huge decision!"

"You're right. I never push. I've never before asked you for anything unless it involved protecting this city. But you know what? I'm asking now. This is the only request I've ever made of you. So please, please do this for me."

"Damn it, Megamind, that is so unfair!" Hot tears stung Roxanne's eyes. "I can't! Not yet! I'm not ready! And it's really low of you to pull that never-asked-for-anything card!"

That hit a nerve. "I am NOT pulling a card, Roxanne! I'm being very, very honest!"

"I didn't mean… I just…"

"I'm offering you everything! My home! My privacy! A place in every aspect of my life! I am offering you—a reporter!—all my secrets! I'm offering my feelings, my time, my vulnerability! I'm pulling out my heart here, Roxanne, pulling it out and laying it at your feet! Don't pay me back by stomping on it!"

There was ringing silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Megamind said at last. "That was… It wasn't fair of me to say..." He drew in a deep breath. "I just really need you to stay here."

Roxanne swiped at her eyes in frustrated, jerky movements.

"I think I'd better go."

"No! Wait!" he grabbed her arm.

"Let go!" She demanded. He did and she stormed toward the door.

"Roxanne!" Megamind dodged around to block her path. "Roxanne, I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave yet. Please listen to me! I know you're upset, but please let me explain!" He braced his back against the door as she tried to push past him. "This isn't just about me wanting you close! This is about your safety!"

"My… Oh, God, now you're starting with the helpless damsel crap?!" She tried to push past him again. "Let me out!"

"I will, Roxanne, as soon as you hear what I have to tell you."

She glared at him. "Let. Me. Out."

"Sweetheart, please..."

"Megamind, I mean it!" she yelled. "You promised me! You said no more real kidnappings! You promised! Let me out!"

The pain in his eyes was like a punch to Roxanne's heart, and that somehow made her temper burn even higher.

"You promised!" she said again, her voice rising nearly to a shriek.

"That's not what this is, Roxanne! If you would just listen I wouldn't have to do this! You think I like feeling like a monster?!"

"Then stop doing it!"

"I can't. Not when you're trying to run away rather than listen. Look, you're angry. I don't pretend to know why, but I accept that you are," His voice was deliberately calm, emotion simmering underneath, but he held his ground, pressing his weight back harder when she scrabbled for the doorknob. She wanted to slap him. "But, Roxanne, I still need you to listen," Megamind lifted one hand like he meant to touch her cheek, but stopped himself, closing his fingers on thin air. "I know you can take care of yourself under normal circumstances, but things have changed. Something's happened, and now… Metrocity isn't safe for you anymore."

That stopped her in her tracks. "Megamind, what are you talking about?"

"I didn't want to bring this up until I could gather some more information." Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "I didn't want to worry you, not until I had a plan…" He sighed. Reluctantly, Megamind handed over a folded letter. His lover opened it to reveal oddly formal calligraphy.

My Dear Hesperos,

I have recently undertaken a business proposition in Metro City, which I understand is under your protection. In general, I applaud your intelligent planning and remarkable success in execution, but I wish you to understand that I cannot allow my operations to be jeopardized. Although your newfound love of justice and position as Defender of Metro City are both, to say the least, surprising, I shall not disparage your change in career. However, I believe that you also have seen enough of the world and society through the eyes of a villain to know that law and justice are, too often, completely disparate, and that sometimes an act of villainy is the only truly righteous course. Therefore I am sending this correspondence as both a professional courtesy and as an offer of peace.

Out of respect and remembered fondness for you, I desire to find a mutually beneficial compromise. It is therefore my hope that this communication will achieve two purposes. First, I wish to assure you that, as my plans currently stand, my activities within your city will neither be aimed against the populace at large nor intended to undermine the normal daily operations of the city itself. I will not, however, insult your intellect or my honor by claiming actions will be viewed, by the strictest interpretation of the law, as anything other than criminal. Nonetheless, be assured that it is my intention to complete my business quickly, discreetly, and without any more loss of life than is necessary. Second, I wish to cordially advise you not to attempt to dissuade me. I do not desire harm to come to you, or any dear to you, but I am a gentleman of business and must protect my interests. If you will consent to allow me to complete my task without interference, you will hardly notice my presence. However, if you take it upon yourself to trouble me, I am afraid I shall have to extract a dire price.

I would take no joy in harming a lovely young lady like Miss Ritchi, but accidents do happen, especially to those who oppose me.

Yours in Good Faith,

Ares Coeus

Roxanne felt slightly cold by the time she finished reading. To think that two minutes ago she'd been worried about whether Megamind wanted to become too serious!

But she hadn't become a star reporter by letting fear control her. "Wow, okay. So, this is... Not what I expected." She looked at him. "I'm sorry... I..."

"It's alright, Love. And I understand. Believe me, it's thrown a wrench into my gears, too."

She nodded, forcing her mind to focus as panic tried once again to drown her natural spunk and curiosity. "Ares? Like the god of war?" she managed a wry grin. "Really? That's a little dramatic." Her attempt at a smile smile felt wrong, like it was stretched too tight.

Megamind didn't share her humor. "Yes, Sweetheart, like the Greek god of war."

Something about that name tugged at the depths of her mind. "I think... I think I remember hearing something about him now. Ares escaped Metro City Prison for the Criminally Insane when I was in the fourth grade. No one except you had ever done it before. No one except you has done it since. People were panicking. Some parents wouldn't let their kids go to school." She paused. "That was weird, now that I think about it. They never did that when you escaped."

"I was not just the local supervillain but also a recognized super-genius. My escaping was almost expected, even if they did everything they could to prevent it. That was just another Tuesday. But Ares' escape wasn't part of the show. They couldn't tell themselves it was only because of my extreme brilliance and ingenuity; not when the escapee was another human. That made it more... real."

Roxanne nodded and cleared her throat. "So… Hesperos. Is that you?"

"Yes. It was Ares' name for me. Hesperos Oldwin."

"Oldwin. That doesn't really fit the pattern. All the other names he chose sound Classical."

"You're right. It doesn't. Ares was obsessed with Greek myths, among other things—especially with both his namesake and with the story of the titan Cronos eating his own children, who were then reborn as gods—but the ancient Greeks didn't have a word for 'blue.'"

"Seriously?"

He made a brave attempt at a chuckle. "Clearly they didn't appreciate the finer things, at least where colors were concerned," His weak smile couldn't seem to hold onto his lips, and quickly fell away. He sighed. "Anyway, Ares gave me the name Hesperos Oldwin because it means Morning Star Blue Sky. The blue part is obvious—"

"Hmmm," she agreed

"And then, of course, my escape pod came from the stars and fell from the sky one morning."

"So he was, what? Your friend? Why is he threatening you?"

"I think I was the closest thing to a friend Ares ever had, but that wasn't very close. More like hero worship." At Roxanne's look, he grimaced slightly. "Remember, I was young and… less brilliant."

"But you liked him?"

"'Like' is too strong a word. Ares was… strange, but he enjoyed my company when I was a boy because I was the only one who could keep up with his intellect, even beat him at chess, although I quickly learned that outsmarting him too much led him to abandon me for days on end. He could be… disinterested, but more often he talked to me, sometimes for hours, when he wasn't locked in solitary confinement. I thought he was cool— smooth, sophisticated, well-spoken, smart, tough— and maybe I liked finding someone fairly close to my own age who didn't revile me for a change." He studied his black boots. "Maybe it made me feel special that I was the only other person he bothered naming."

Roxanne gently lifted his chin. "You were lonely. I can't really blame you."

"I can." Megamind sighed. "As I grew older I began to realize that some things about him were just… off. It wasn't until years afterward that I learned 'morning star' is also the meaning of the name Lucifer, as in the devil in most Abrahamic religions. By that time Ares was already gone, but I have the feeling the parallel wasn't an accident. The worst part is, I don't think he meant it as an insult."

"Okay, but how much of that is just a persona? You once said that the difference between a villain and a supervillain is presentation."

"Minion said that," he reminded her.

"It's still true."

"This is different."

"I don't mean he's necessarily a supervillain. You grew up in prison. You're better at analyzing criminal minds than any psychiatrist I've ever heard of. I've seen you figure people out so fast it's almost like mind-reading. I'm guessing Ares isn't his real name, so clearly he's putting on a show. How much is him and how much is just an act?"

"Oh, you don't understand!" Megamind threw up his hands and began pacing. "Ares does not play at evil insanity. He's the real deal! No one in that prison ever crossed him. Convicts, guards, even the warden feared him. Most people, even criminals, have limits… lines they won't cross, but Ares… He had no lines. He would be a perfectly nice and polite man until someone did something he didn't like—anything, a tone of voice, the wrong look—and then, in a flash, he could turn horrible and callous. He would get this cold smile on his face, and you knew sometime soon something truly terrible was going to happen to that person. And it never bothered him. Not even a little."

"You make him sound like a monster."

"He is."

Roxanne stood up and stopped his pacing with a hug. "No, Megamind. He's just a man."

With a sigh, Megamind gently pushed her away. "Roxanne," he looked her in the eye. "I was twelve when Ares was arrested. He was only a few years older than me, not quite a legal adult, but they sent him to a high-security facility for the criminally insane. Do you know why? When he found out his father was cheating on his mother, Ares murdered both the man and his mistress. And not in a crime of passion. He searched, learned, planned, and prepared. He found out about the spa resort his father often took his mistress to— an exclusive and very discreet place outside of town—"

Roxanne was starting to feel a little sick. "Oh my God… The Nelson Case. You knew that guy?"

"Yes. Ares' real name is Eric Nelson."

"I read about that trial for a paper when I was in college. Did he really kill them in the steam room?"

Megamind nodded. "He told me all about it. Bragged. The fake ID, the forged credentials, the Social Security System hack… And then he got a maintenance job at the spa resort. Even though he was rarely around guests, he was always in disguise, even changing his mannerisms and the way he walked… He learned how the steam system worked, created a bypass for the safety measures…." Megamind shuddered. "Roxanne, he literally steam broiled those people alive. And he watched. He stood there and he watched. His own father…" With a shake of his head, Megamind added: "He wasn't even sorry. Ares called himself a 'soldier of righteousness,' and insisted it was the legal system that was corrupt."

"How could he think that?"

"He's crazy. But he's also calculating, cold, and cruel. That makes him dangerous. When his twisted sense of honor and justice is incensed, he is capable of truly horrific things." Megamind sighed again. "After Ares escaped prison, he joined a paramilitary organization, but apparently his philosophies were too... extreme even for them. The last I heard, he was working as an assassin, but he only takes certain jobs that he feels are in line with his off-center views of right and wrong. He's so good at making his murders look like accidents that no one— not even in the criminal underworld— really knows what his kill count is. Even so, the sorts of 'accidents' he causes… Let's just say people don't hire Ares if they want the funeral to be open casket."

"Maybe he's not serious." Even to her, it sounded more like a plea than a suggestion. "What if he's just playing mind games with you?" Roxanne trailed off as she studied her lover's face.

"No. Ares isn't like other villains we've faced… like I was. This isn't something he does for fame, money, petty revenge, or for the simple reason that he's bored out of his skull and needs intellectual stimulation. He doesn't play games, or if he does, he plays for keeps."

It felt as if ice had replaced her spine. "And you really think he'll do it? That he'll find me?"

Green eyes met hers, and something in their depths made the ice expand to fill her stomach.

"Megamind?"

He glanced away again, like he couldn't bear to see her reaction. "Sweetheart, there were..." his throat bobbed.

"There were photographs enclosed with the letter," he answered quietly, as if lowering the tone of his words would somehow lessen their impact. "They were… One was of you standing just inside the glass doors of your balcony—"

"Oh my God." she breathed, moving to collapse into the desk chair.

"One was of you leaving the news station. The last was of you jogging in Hill Top Park." He finally met her gaze again. "Sweetheart… I'm sorry… He has already found you." He knelt beside her, turned the desk chair to face him, and took her hands in his, looking earnestly up at her. "I have to try to stop him. You know I do. I'm the good guy now. But I can't do that and watch your back at the same time. Not if we're apart. That's why I really, really need you to stay here."

Something in her vaguely understood that she should care about that, but it suddenly seemed as if her brain, overwhelmed with terror, had opted to turn itself off. Her heart, in contrast, was screaming and she felt like she might be physically ill. This, Roxanne decided distantly, must be what a panic attack felt like.

"What about… my job?"

"Telecommute."

Her laugh sounded bitter and wild in her own ears. "I'm an on-scene correspondent. I can't telecommute."

"Then take some time off," he offered gently. "We'll talk to the station, or have the officials contact them. This is little different from a witness protection program. And it's only temporary. They'll have to understand."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll make them."

Roxanne buried her face in her palms. She heard the tread of leather boots, the sighing swish of a cape, and deft hands began massaging her shoulders. Megamind's voice spoke gently behind her.

"Roxanne. Listen to me. It will be alright. Everything will be alright. We are going to get through this. He hasn't found this place, and I've made some alterations to ensure it stays that way."

"How do you know he hasn't found your hideout?" she asked between her fingers. "You can't possibly know that."

"He hasn't. Trust me. His letter was sent to my fan mail post box. Ares likes keeping people off balance, making them feel he has the upper hand. If he had known where my Lair was, he would have found a way to deliver it directly here. He didn't, which means we're safe. I've been working on some enhancements for a while, but Minion and I have put in a lot of hours to finish them quickly. This entire building is now outfitted with a cloaking shield: a hard light hologram similar to what the holowatch produces. I took it down briefly when I saw you approach, and put it back up once you came in. Now all anyone will see is an empty, condemned building. No dome, no signs of life, nothing."

Turning the chair to face him, she suddenly threw her arms around Megamind and held him close. He knelt to let her hide her face against his neck. Like a child awakened from a bad dream, Roxanne buried herself in his warmth and breathed in the comfort of his scent.

"I really am sorry," her words were muffled by his skin. "I'm so very sorry."

He ran gentle hands up and down her arms. "I am too."

"You shouldn't be."

"If you weren't with me, this never would have happened."

"No. People assumed I dated Metro Man, and they would have assumed the same about us."

"I should have realized sooner. I should have done better."

"You're doing your best."

"We both are."

"I'm so sorry I yelled at you."

"You didn't know."

The moment of weakness passed, and Roxanne gathered herself, gluing pieces of broken confidence back together with spunky determination and brave humor.

"Yeah, well, you know, you could have told me this sooner and saved us the trouble of arguing," she jibed halfheartedly, her crooked smile appearing through tears.

His answering grin was weak, and a little sad. "I didn't want to have to tell you. Not now, not tonight. And I didn't want to ruin your holidays." His shoulders drooped slightly. "Tonight was supposed to be about cheering you up. I wanted to make you happy, not terrify the living daylights out of you."

"But I thought you liked terrifying me. Why else did you kidnap me all the time?"

"How else could I spend time with you? Besides, you were never truly scared of me. Annoyed, yes. Sometimes even angry, but never scared." He wrapped her in an embrace. "And I happen to think you're extremely sexy when you're angry."

That drew a tearful laugh from Roxanne. "Right, because, you know, that's one I've never heard before." Sighing, she looked back at her new bedroom. "Thank you for everything you've done, Megamind. If it's okay, I'll enlist the brainbots' help in moving my things tomorrow."

"I'll be glad to have them give you a hand, but we should do it late at night. That's when Ares… works. He'll be less likely to be watching your apartment."

They were silent for a moment.

"Well," Roxanne's voice held a tone of determined calm. "At least we have a plan."

He smiled. "We have a plan."

There was another pause.

"So..." casting around for something to say, Roxanne landed on: "how long has Ares been in Metro City, and what do we know so far?"

"Not much. I got the letter last Thursday, but Ares has been laying low. I've had brainbots guarding you twenty-four-seven."

"I thought I saw more of them around than usual. Wait," she looked around her room with new admiration. "You managed to get all of this pulled together in six days? That's... Darling, that's beyond impressive! That's amazing!"

"Five days, six hours, and fifty-three minutes, to be precise," Megamind answered, standing up and managing another gray smile. "Incredibly Handsome Genius, remember? You'd be surprised what can be done with a little determination, a large budget, and thousands of tireless laborers."

"Large budget?"

"I have contracts with various companies for a cut of the profits from all Megamind merchandise sold, among other things."

"Seriously? That's not standard hero procedure, is it?"

"Being a good guy doesn't exactly pay well."

"Wayne never did that."

"Ha. Metro Man was adopted by a multi-billionaire. He has a trust fund big enough to support an entire third-world country, not to mention that all of his abilities are inborn. I, on the other hand, have supplies to buy, bills to pay, evil inventions to construct..."

"I thought they weren't evil any more?"

"Well, evil only to evildoers." His burgeoning grin faltered. "Roxanne, be honest, are you angry at me? For not telling you sooner? I know you always hated it when Metro Man treated you like a powerless victim, and I want you to know that isn't why I didn't tell you. I just wanted the brainbots to do a little reconnocense first. And, as I said, I wanted you to enjoy the holiday season before I threw this at you."

Drawing close to him, she cupped his cheek and looked sincerely into his face. "No. I'm not angry. Not now that I understand." She hugged him once more. "But from now on I need you to trust me enough to just tell me things. I can't be prepared if I don't know."

"It's a deal."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

He kissed her cheek. "I suppose it's possible I could have handled it a little better."

She finally managed a real grin. "Maybe a little." She held her hands a foot apart. "Like this much."

"Oh, come on, not that much." He moved her arms closer until her palms were only a couple of inches apart. "Maybe that much."

"This much," she spread her hands even wider.

His mouth quirked. "Now you're just being unreasonable."

Despite everything, they both laughed, releasing the tension in the air.

"I'm glad I'm here," Roxanne said.

"Me too." He held her, kissed her brow. "You'll be happy here, Sweetheart. I'll do everything I can… I want this to be comfortable, and good… You like having your own space, and that's fine, but I want you to know that this is your home, too. Always."

She felt herself smile, although the expression lacked its usual confident strength. He wasn't wrong. Sometimes Roxanne felt she practically lived in his hideout already. Well, the past few weeks had been an exception. While the blue hero had dealt with a plot by the Doom Syndicate and the usual holiday season uptick in thefts, Roxanne had been forced to travel, first covering a rare blizzard in the Upper Penninsula, then a meeting of the newly formed Michigan State Disability Caucus in Lansing, and finally attempts by members of the state legislature to conceal certain business interest's tax frauds. She and her lover had only been able to steal occasional dates during her brief returns home, and he had spent one night in a Lansing hotel with her. Even when life wasn't so busy, however, the reporter and her lover rarely spent the night at her apartment anymore. Not since Ms. Farley, a sweet but nosy elderly woman who lived next door, had caught Roxanne out in the hall one evening and invited her over for what had turned out the be the most awkwardly embarrassing cup of tea in all history.

"Listen, Dear," the old lady had said amicably after a few minutes of small talk. "Between you, me, and the lamppost, I just want to tell you that I am really very happy you and our hero have such a healthy and loving relationship, but— I really hate to bring it up— but maybe three in the morning is a little late for… nocturnal activities? And… well… you might just ask him to be a little more circumspect about his language? It's only that Len Paszek mentioned that his little boy asked last week what all those funny words the Defender kept shouting meant…"

Megamind had blushed fuchsia when she'd told him, and admitted that one of his new friends on the police force had laughingly informed him they had received no fewer than three noise complaints from other tenants in Roxanne's building.

"He seemed to think I needed to be congratulated?" the blue man had said uncertainly. "He kept slapping my back and saying I must be doing something right?"

Roxanne had felt her own cheeks burning. "I… um… yeah, that's a… pretty normal human male bonding ritual…"

"Humans are strange," Megamind had informed her.

They'd spent almost every night at the Lair ever since.

"Sir, Code C and C," Minion's voice crackled from the vicinity of his master's left hand, disrupting Roxanne's thoughts.

"Code what?" Megamind asked into his wrist.

"Cookies and cocoa!" Minion explained. "Come and get it while it's—No no no! That is not a toy! Drop it! Drop it right now!"

A sound suspiciously like breaking china echoed through the watch's speaker.

Megamind and Roxanne looked at each other and laughed again. It felt good. "I suppose we had better go downstairs while the cookies are still edible," the blue hero said. "You don't mind, do you, Roxanne? It's just that— well, you know— Minion has planned out this entire evening, and it really means a lot to him…" he trailed off as Roxanne gave him his favorite knowing smile.

"Thank you and Minion both for planning tonight. Of course I want to be a part of it." She sighed, looking down one more time at the disturbing letter. "Let's just take a step back. We can deal with this tomorrow. Besides," she brightened slightly. "I wouldn't miss Minion's home baking for anything."

Megamind chuckled again. "Be sure to tell him that." With a dramatic flourish, he swept his cloak behind one shoulder and offered her his arm. "Now, Miss Ritchi," he purred in that tone that always melted her down to her toes. "If you'll come with me, please, I fully intend to spend the next several hours cuddling by the stove, if only I could find a beautiful, intelligent woman to cuddle with."

A small, very grown-up and professional part of Roxanne hated that Megamind always knew how to make her blush. The rest of her, however, adored it.

"I think I can oblige," she answered, linking her arm through his.

He returned her smile and led her downstairs.

7 notes · View notes

harrypotterhogwartshitpost · 4 years ago

Text

not hogwarts mystery but-

so I’m in college now, and it’s weird getting dressed for class and not having to get pants or leggings on an 80ºF day. there’s not really a dress code. (well, apparently you can’t workout in just a sports bra at the rec, i learned the hard way, but that’s it,) which means I can wear shorts, which I could not do in high school. The reason i could not do this in high school is because All shorts had to come past your middle finger when you put your arms down. Yes everyone found it annoying, but it only really affected two groups of girls, tall girls and thick girls. Now I’ve already mentioned on here how i’m 5′2 (132cm) so obviously i don’t fall in the tall girl category. Shorts just did not fit me in a dress code compliant way. Even if they were long enough when I put them on within two steps they would ride up. The only ones I could wear were like the 8 inch inseam ones, and i would rather die than wear those. The one time I did try wearing shorts during my junior year I was called a whore, and I was wearing a long sleeve shirt with them. Sure she could have just been jealous because she’s built like a stick bug and I was blessed by the midsized gods to have Marilyn Monroe’s hourglass figure, but it wasn’t a necessary thing to say in front of my entire AP Language class at 10:27 in the morning. I hit her with a snappy comeback about her on-again-off-again boyfriend and then continued about my business ignoring my teacher and playing 8-ball over iMessage with the exchange student i was flirting with. However I didn’t wear shorts again, not because I care what she thinks, or anyone for that matter, but I was already subject to enough dress code violations that they rewrote the dress code around my crop tops and collar chokers, and I couldn’t afford to not get into college over denim that rides up my thighs. Now typically I’m a size 8 (an american size 8) but a size 8 to where I can downsize to a 7 in juniors instead of upsizing to a 9. A size 8 to where I can wear a size 6 on my waist as long as it’s loose on my thighs. So i’m definitely not a ‘big’ girl, again i’m 5′2 so i’m actually rather tiny. However my high school treated me like I was fat. Staff and students alike. It’s come to my attention since then that I am hot as fuck, and boys who bullied me in high school try to hit me up now, to which I have the joy of ghosting them. I have the peace of mind of knowing that I’m single not because people don’t want me, but because I can afford to have high standards.

And if you’re wondering how this ties back to shorts and high school dress code, all i have to say is; don’t let an old white man with a superiority complex and the ability to print a handbook tell you you’re not good enough.

#enjoy my rant #i was thinking about this in the shower #because public school really has me thinking i was fat for 12 years #sorry i'm not 5'6 and 98lbs addie #harrypotterhogwartsshitpost

6 notes · View notes

bexterbex · 5 years ago

Text

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 27

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 27: Of Burning Fire and Water

You all made your way down to the officers' lounge. Again the room gets quiet as you enter. You follow the general over to the same table you sat at last night. This time there was a man whom you assumed to be Admiral Frantis Griss and an extra chair for the lieutenant.

“Lady Ren it is nice to finally meet you, my name is Admiral Frantis Griss,” said the admiral extending a handshake to you.

“It is nice to meet you, admiral,” you said taking a seat. The waiter then promptly came over and took your order. This time no one ordered alcoholic drinks but Hux insisted you have a cup of Tarine tea.

There wasn’t much invigorating conversation happening this time around and you were very thankful for it. You noted that the lieutenant seemed to be a bit more uncomfortable than he usually was during breakfast. But you chalked it up to him not having meals with his superiors all that often because he was starting to become quite comfortable around you.

Getting up from the table to leave Hux said, “I believe it might be best to disregard today’s lesson until you have a discussion with the Supreme Leader.”

“I don’t really think that it would be a good idea to let me stew on the discussion from earlier. Because I don’t think it would be pretty for the Supreme Leader if I did,” you replied.

“I suppose so. How about I take you to see some of the ‘troopers train? Captain Phasma has arrived ahead of the Supreme Leader and she and Pyre are set to spar in a few minutes.”

You eagerly agree as that is the best suggestion that he has made in a while. You and the lieutenant followed him through the hallways to a large training room. For the first time, you saw ‘troopers without their helmets or armor on. They were mostly young men surprisingly, a woman here or there and some older people whom you assumed to be commanders and sergeants. You three approached a mat that people were surrounding. In the middle were a tall short-haired blond woman and bald man, both taking fighting stances with staffs in their hands.

As you approached the people on the outside of the mat shifted their attention to you and the general. This caught the attention of the man and the woman in the ring. “Lady Ren and Allegiant General Hux, sir. Do we have the honor of you watching our match,” asked the woman.

“Yes, Captain Phasma. We shall watch you and Commander Pyre spar. Although I do believe this is Lady Ren’s first time witnessing you out of combat uniform,” replied the general.

Phasma bowed to you as did Pyre. In unison, they replied, ”Ma’am.” And resumed their fighting position. A man on the outside of the ring blew a whistle and they began to spar.

General Hux leaned over to you and said, “if you were to ever bet on one of these matches always place your credits on Phasma.”

To which the Lieutenant agreed to say, “other than the Supreme Leader, Captain Phasma is the last person you ever want to fight.”

You watched as she easily had the upper hand, although you could see why she chose Pyre to spar with as he was a formidable opponent. Although you assumed that he was stronger than him she was more skilled with the staff. By the end of the first round, it was 6-2. You could hear the commanders ‘troops cheer for him whenever he was able to successfully land a hit.

You were absolutely amazed and a bit jealous of Phasma’s strength and skill. You could definitely tell that the lieutenant was telling the honest truth when she struck her staff at the commander and his split in two during his block. All of the room seemed to cheer at that. By the end of the match, it was 18-7 in Phasma’s favor.

A junior officer entered the room and approached you, “Lady Ren? The Supreme Leader has sent me to fetch you. He has returned and would like to see you in the throne room.”

You follow her through the halls of the Steadfast with the lieutenant trailing you. Outside the throne room, she turns to leave you and you stop her.

“How old are you,” you ask.

“Sixteen ma’am,” replied the girl.

“Are you in the Academy?”

“No ma’am I was not accepted into the academy, but I have applied to serve aboard the Finalizer.”

“How long have you served here?”

“On the Steadfast ma’am? Four years.”

You let her go. She was twelve when she first enlisted onboard. A child. All of the anger that was built up earlier seemed to ignite again. This time it was a raging fire. You opened the door to the throne room and started to march in until you saw the scene before you.

In the center of the room before the throne were Lieutenant Rodinon and General Pyre kneeling before the throne. You could see that Kylo still had his helmet on and had his head resting on his chin. You approached them, Mitaka did not follow you to them but rather he stayed on the edge of the platform.

You walk around the kneeling men and ask, “what is all this?”

Straightening up in throne Kylo says, “They have something to say to you. Lieutenant Rodinon first.”

“My Lady, I am truly sorry about my behavior earlier today. It was disrespectful for me to speak that way to someone of your status, to you. I hope you can forgive me, madame,” said Rodinon.

Your eyes flickered to Kylo. Why was he making them do this? “I forgive you, but next time read whatever memo they send out and stick to it. If you would have done that in the first place you would not be here.”

Kylo then dismissed him from the room. Next up was General Pryde who bowed his head while he spoke.

“Lady Ren, I apologize for any actions or statements I may have done to offend you at last night’s dinner. It was not my intention. I also deeply apologize for inserting myself into your relationship with the Supreme Leader,” at this, you saw Kylo’s hand raise. Pryde’s head seemed to be yanked up by an invisible hand and held tightly. Straining, “I hope you can forgive me for my actions, I promise to never speak of your relationship in such a way again.”

You glanced at Kylo once more. What game was he playing?

“General, you are never to speak of any relationship in such a way again, let alone mine. I forgive you, but you must never do so again.”

You saw him be released from the invisible grip. He cleared his throat. “Thank you m’lady.”

Kylo dismissed him, but unlike the lieutenant, he was dismissed with a shove of the Force that al ost landed him on his back. Kylo turned his head to lieutenant Mitaka, “You are dismissed for until tomorrow. Unless Lady Ren or myself call for you.”

You turned and watched the lieutenant leave the room before turning back to Kylo, who was descending the throne quickly. Before you could say anything he took you arm in his and whisked you out the room and down the hall. Under different circumstances it would have felt very romantic but seeing as you were still angry at him you were a bit miffed.

You entered your chambers where Kylo promptly removed his helmet and pulled you down to sit on the loveseat with him. Before he could pull you into his lap you pushed yourself off the couch and glared at him.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” you said pointing a finger at him before crossing your arms.

He sat back and stared at you, urging you to continue.

“When the hell were you going to tell me that none of my decisions in the health committee really mattered? Like the two-child policy that your general just apologized to me for? Or that your First Order is brainwashing my planet—my people? Or that apparently I am to rule the First Order with you? Or that you essentially send children off to fight wars, Jesus Christ the girl you sent to get me enlisted when she was just twelve! Never mind how young you enlist the Stormtroopers because apparently, your Allegiant General didn’t feel comfortable giving me an age. When was I to find all this out, because you don’t talk to me? All you do is essentially try to cuddle me but get angry when I ask you a question about your parents, but apparently, I was supposed to find out about how great your grandfather is to the First Order through your general!” You were now just effectively shouting at the man in front of you, whose face remained frozen, but whose eyes were giving everything away.

You paused to catch your breath before you asked, “well what do you have to say for yourself?”

If looks could kill the man in front of you would have been dead several times over.

His eyes were now trying to pierce your soul. “I was waiting to tell you most of this. I didn’t realize that Hux’s lessons would have already started to dive into those parts of the First Order. I assumed you would have started in a lighter spot. For the record, we are not brainwashing your people. We enlighten all of our citizens to the atrocities that the Rebel Alliance and the New Republic have done and what the First Order has done to help the galaxy. It was a program started by our founders and was carried on by my predecessor. I saw no reason to discontinue something that boosts the morale and loyalty of my people.” He moved to strand now his face was inches from yours. “The First Order also does not send children into battle. At least not since General Hux has made his way into First Order High Command 7 or so years ago. You should thank him for that. While we do have junior officers aboard ships and the ‘trooper program does recruit young none of those children see battle until they are 18, or they shouldn’t unless the fowl Resistance drags them into it. As I said before my parents are no one, but my grandfather was one of the greatest men to ever walk this galaxy. Your planet has a popular problem that needs to be solved soon. Your people can not be coddled into thinking that that way of life will sustain them on your planet. Because it won’t more people will die as a result of that ignorance.” Before you could think of a response Kylo pulled something off his belt and placed it into your hand while pulling you both down to the couch once more.

The object was mostly back and pretty heavy. It was cross like in shape before you could ask what it was and why he handed it to you he spoke.

“This is the most powerful weapon in the galaxy. It is in many ways like the one my grandfather carried, but in many ways, it is my own. I built this with my own two hands, it carries my blood. The Jedi falsely used this weapon to once cowardly try to control the galaxy. But my grandfather used his to help bring order to the galaxy before the Jedi and rebels destroyed his work.”

You ran your finger along the little red wire. You don't know what to make of this information. Or why he just handed it to you.

“I carry this as a symbol to the galaxy. I carry the responsibility of it. I admit I have not used it as I should but that is a battle that I face every day.”

He guided your fingers to the switch that you had been avoiding. He helped you ignite it. It hissed and crackled to life. The bright red blade seemed like its own life form, like a being in itself. You were surprised that the blade didn’t add any weight, but you supposed that the blade was made of light so why should it? You moved it in your hand a bit and it audibly cut the air with a whoosh. You could feel the power it held. You almost wanted to touch the blade but you knew that probably wasn’t a good idea.

“Why are you showing me this,” you ask.

“Because I want to wield this blade for you. I want to only strike with it when you command me to. I want to give you the power to mold this galaxy, through my hand. That is my desire. That is the wish that I have kept with me all of these years. When I lost… or rather killed Ben Solo you were the one thing he begged me, Kylo Ren, to keep safe. You are the one that I would destroy the whole galaxy looking for. You are the one I keep living for. Nothing else really matters to me,” his voice became soft and quiet as he turned off the lightsaber and removed it from your hand before tracing his name once more.

“But why did you kill him,” you ask.

“Because he was weak. He could not protect you as I can,” his words becoming stronger once more.

“But if he is dead why is his name still here,” you said pointing to your wrist.

He grabbed your arm and said, “there is something I still must finish. But you cannot know what it is until it is done. Because then I will have you all to myself and then we will be able to rule the galaxy.”

“What if I don’t want to rule the galaxy,” you ask.

“Then I will alone, but with you still by my side. Safe. It is my destiny to finish what my grandfather started. To order to the galaxy. To bring balance to the Force.”

He interlaced his hand in yours. You felt numb. This was all too much. And somehow Kylo sensed it. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and said, “why don’t we order a quick dinner and then go to bed. You’ve had a long day.”

You simply nodded as he summoned his data pad and ordered dinner. Once he finished ordering he set the pad down and drew you into his chest while he leaned back. You stayed like that for several minutes before your food arrived. He stroked your hair and neither of you said a word. When the food finally arrived the droid served it to you while on the couch. It was a simple quick but filling meal.

After the events of the day, you both parted saying your usual goodnights. You got ready for bed and crawled in. About an hour and a half after you had gone to bed you realized that you were too parched and needed a drink of water. Slipping out of bed you opened your door and started to make your way to the kitchen. But before you could you heard a noise.

You noticed that Kylo was not in his bed, but that his shower was running in his bathroom with the door shut. You heard it again. A low grunting sound. Concern etched across your face before you heard it.

Your name, but not in a cry for help, but dragged out in a moan. You covered your mouth both in shock and to keep yourself from alerting Kylo.

If your mouth wasn’t dry before, it certainly was now. Your underwear, on the other hand, was feeling rather drenched.

He was pleasuring himself to the thought of you, you briefly wondered if this was a nightly occurrence since you had met if it is something he has been doing since forever because your name was on his wrist or if it was now his first time partaking in such an act.

You heard another moan and then your name. You remembered again that he could read minds so you quickly went to the kitchen and practically drowned yourself with water before running back to your room.

You promised yourself you would wait with him. That he was special and that you both deserved to know each other before taking part in such an intimate act. But boy did he make wanting to wait a bit hard. Trying to fall asleep now was a difficult task, you were thankful when sleep finally did take you.

#a soul to mend his own #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo x reader #kylo x you #star wars #first order #star wars imagine #Star wars soulmate au #sw first order imagine #star wars first order #first order propaganda #a very spicy chapter #this was my favorite to write so far #pls like it

159 notes · View notes

tamorasky · 4 years ago

Text

Rise to Me Chapter 7 - January 1947

Summary: 1947. It had been nearly four years since she had received a letter from her sister. Now with the end of the war and her impending wedding, Anna Rendelle is more determined than ever to find her sister.

1943. All her life Elsa Rendelle had been told to be good, know her place and to marry well. When an opportunity arises to make something of herself, finding herself in Occupied France as a part of a larger network of secret agents.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Elsa/Honeymaren, Anna/Hans (Briefly)

AO3

It feels odd not wearing her engagement ring underneath her black suede gloves, nor carrying her purse, but Anna remained firm to leave all her valuables at home, save for a few coins in her coat pocket.

Her gaze remains forward, firm not to make eye contact with any of the beggars on the street or the men calling out to her. She had lied to Gerda this morning when she left the house, knowing the Norwegian woman would have a fit if she learned Anna was going to Spitalfields this afternoon.

She hadn’t even brought a piece of paper with the address written down, ensuring her pockets are bare if she is to be accosted. Walking through the crowded street, Anna repeats the address in her head over and over again, ensuring she will not forget it. Her memory has never been reliable.

Even as she walks down the street, Anna feels as if she should know this area as she walks along Thrawl Street. Much to her annoyance, the sidewalk ceases at the bend, causing the young woman to walk along the road surrounded by brick structures.

Anna shoves her hands into her green coat pockets, her fingers brushing against the satin inside as she approaches Flower and Dean Walk. She’s slightly uncomfortable by the idea of walking down the quiet street as if anything could jump out at her at any moment. But continues down the road, nonetheless.

She glances behind her periodically to remain aware of her surroundings as she searches for house number 37. It is the last of the rowhouses on the block before the street turns into a courtyard surrounded by other brick houses. These Victorian neighbourhoods always unnerved Anna.

Anna lifts the brass knocker as she approaches the door, which slips from her hand, causing the brass to hit against the door louder than she intended. She steps back from the house with wide eyes, worried about how the disturbance will be perceived, especially for a man who lived in such a place.

Jumping at the sound of the door opening, Anna tucks her hands behind her back as her heart pounds in her ears. A man emerges from the house, ducking slightly as he walks through the short doorframe.

He wears a plain cotton t-shirt and brass-coloured trousers with a green coat in his grasp. His blonde hair is ragged and unkempt as his beard is. The man raises a brow at her, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Can I help you?” He asks, his foreign accent resounding through Anna’s bones as she stares at the man standing at least three inches taller than herself. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out, trying desperately to say something as the man is growingly frustrated with her.

“Bjorgman,” She manages to say, closing her eyes at how dim she must sound to him. “That…is…I mean. Shit.”

The American man can’t help but chuckle at this awkward British woman standing on his doorstep, shaking his head. “You wanna try that again?”

“Yes, I’m looking for a Kristopher Bjorgman.” Anna sighs, thankful she is finally making sense. Convinced it is this neighbourhood that is having an effect on her.

“Um…” The man glances behind himself momentarily, then back to the woman, glancing at her up and down. “He isn’t home.”

“Oh, well…might you have any idea of when he’ll be back? You see, it’s about this letter I have, well, a letter that was actually sent to my fiancé from Washington. He’s American, you see and has been helping me with some things…an-”

“He probably won’t be back for some time.” The man cuts her off, shutting the door behind him as he places on a coat which resembles Hans’ military one; the same olive-green colour but shorter in style with the buttons covered by a front panel with an insignia of an eagle sewn on the shoulder.

“Oh, I see. Well, might I leave my information? You see, I don’t often get into this part of town, and my landlady will have the skin off my back if she ever found out I came here.” Anna explains, trying desperately not to be awkward as Hans always teased her about being.

The man runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Yeah, just leave your name and phone number where he can reach you at.” He reaches into his pocket, presumably for a piece of paper and a pen.

“Perfect! So my name is Anna Rendelle, and I can be reached at…” She trails off, noticing the man isn’t writing any this down but pulls out a cigarette and lighter instead. He lights the cigarette, taking a drag of it as he stares down at the woman.

“Alright, Anna Rendelle. I’ll tell him you came by.” The blonde nods, taking a step forward towards the street. Abruptly the wooden door swings open once again, revealing a short elderly lady with a red shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“Mr. Bjorgman,” She calls, stopping the blonde man in his tracks. Slowly, he turns to face the older woman with a grimace. “May I inquire when you might pay your rent for last month…and this month.”

“I’ll umm…yes. I will have that to you soon, Mrs. Anderson.” The man, apparently the vary man Anna had been searching for, responds.

“You better. The food for that mutt of yours isn’t cheap.” The white-haired woman places her hands on her wide hips.

“Yes, ma’am. I will have this and last month’s rent soon.” He bows his head, avoiding eye contact with the young woman standing before him.

“When Kristoff?” The older woman snaps as the young man turns from her.

He holds up his hand with his index finger extended. “Soon, Mrs. Anderson.”

“It better be!” The older woman shouts at the young man, who was walking away, before she glances back to Anna sternly. “Who are you then?” Anna opens her mouth to speak but doesn’t, instead her gaze going back to the man making his way down Flower and Dean Walk.

“Hey!” She yells after him, racing to catch up with the tall man. As she comes to stand next to him, her pace remains increased to match his stride. “Mr. Bjorgman, my name is Anna Rendelle, and I was hoping to speak to you about a matter regarding my sister.”

“I don’t know anyone by the name Rendelle.” He curtly responds, turning left onto Thrawl Street.

“No, I’m sure you don’t. But I believe we may have a common interest in this particular instance.”

“What? Is your sister a part of a country club that needs someone to work the grounds? Because I can assure you, I’m not interested.” He responds, raising a brow at the young woman as they turn right onto Commercial Street.

“W-wait what? No, I m-mean my sister has gone missing.” Anna explains as they cross the street.

He stops in front of a corner building, huffing as he throws away his cigarette. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I can’t help you.” Without another word, he disappears into the building, stepping through the glass and wood door.

Anna follows him, only to stop in front of the door for a moment, collecting her thoughts before pushing into the building. The Ten Bells pub had seen better days, the establishment’s wooden interior worn, and the stairs to the second floor blocked off by several chairs.

Mr. Bjorgman sits at the wooden bar on a tall barstool. She marches towards him, her brows knitted together, and her mouth pressed into a thin line as she climbs on the barstool next to him.

“Listen, I need you to take me across the channel.” She states. Trying to remain firm in her resolve while squaring her shoulders, attempting to look strong and confident.

Kristoff sighs, finally glancing at the young woman. He hadn’t expected her to follow him into the pub. “And why would I do that?”

“I heard from Frederick Westergaard about you. That you’re also looking for someone.” Anna explains, wishing she had brought her purse to show him the letters.

He visibly stiffens at that, eagerly reaching the beer the bartender places in front of him and takes a sip. A vein visible shows on his forehead as he places down his pint. “I think you have the wrong man.”

“My sister went missing during the war, I-I don’t know when. I think sometime in 1943, I’ve been looking for her since then. Last I heard is she was enlisted with something called the Special Operatives Executive.” Her fingers brush against the rough wood of the bar. He finally looks at her, turning slightly to face her as he pulls out another cigarette. “I need to find her before I leave for the United States with my fiancé.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He responds, his honey-brown eyes boring into her blue ones. “But I can’t help you.”

Anna stares at him, carefully examining his features, noticing the way his eyes crease as he apologizes. She recognizes that look all too well. “Who did you lose?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He takes another sip of his beer. “Listen, even if you can get across the channel, it doesn’t change the fact that she could be anywhere in Belgium, Germany or France.”

“The ferries have been operating across the channel again. There won’t be an issue with that.” Anna shrugs, shaking her head as the gray-haired bartender offers her a drink.

“And your fiancé? How does he feel about you going off on this wild goose chase?” Kristoff raises a brow questioningly as he takes a drag from his smoke, exhaling away from her.

“Hans is…supportive.” She drags out her words, not having told Hans about her plans to travel to the continent. “He’s been helping me with finding her.”

“So why doesn’t he take you to the continent?”

“H-he’s busy with work, you know and trying to make travel arrangements back to the States. I couldn’t possibly bother him with this stuff.” She excuses, increasingly becoming frustrated with the stranger.

“Sounds like a real knight in shining armour.” He rolls his eyes, finishing his beer and ashing his cigarette.

“You know what?” Anna slips from the stool, her heels hitting against the floor as she narrows her eyes at the stranger. “I don’t need this. I can find my sister by myself; I have been doing it for four years now, and I don’t need your help.”

Kristoff shrugs, his brows lifting slightly as he takes a sip of the freshly poured pint in front of him. “Fine.”

“Fine!” Anna retorts, uncaring if she sounded like an insolent child as her mouth purses, “You may be satisfied sitting here like a sad drunk all day wondering what happened to your person, but I’m not. Good day sir.”

“No. Wait. Stop.” Kristoff calls sarcastically, his eyes focused forward on the mirror behind the bar. For a moment, Anna does stop to turn and look at him but observes he is unbothered by her words or her leaving.

She rolls her eyes in frustration while spinning on her heel, stomping towards the door before pushing through onto the street. The young woman walks quickly to the closest bus stop, not wanting to remain in this awful neighbourhood any longer.

Anna wishes she had refused to take Kathryn’s shift the next evening, her mood still soured by her interaction with him from the other day. She had never understood the stereotype of the “rude American” until meeting Mr. Bjorgman. Certain she would tell Hans about all of it when they meet for dinner tomorrow night.

Throughout her entire shift, Anna is fuming, trying desperately not to be short with customers or Mrs. Steiner when her supervisor scolds her for the run in her stockings. The very run Anna had fixed a week ago in the same pair of stockings. It was inevitable, she would have to buy a new pair.

Groaning in frustration as she glances at the gold clock on the wall, noting that she only had 40 minutes left of her shift. She decided at that moment that she needs a drink after work, tired of everything the last couple of days had thrown at her. As she stands in the department store, Anna decides not to think about it, in fear of bursting into tears on the sales floor.

Instead, she smiles at customers and discusses her wedding with her swooning co-workers in her spare time. After 4 years, she had perfected, pretending everything is fine in her life. As Anna smiles and jokes with Mary, a familiar voice resounds through the salesfloor, instantly souring her mood once again.

She huffs in frustration, blowing her bangs out of her eyes before turning towards the department store entrance. The blond man stands at the front makeup counter, wearing the same clothes from that afternoon and still looking ragged. It surprises her that the security guard isn’t following him through the store as he meanders, looking a little lost through it all.

He slinks through the salesfloor. His gaze searches every makeup counter until they finally fall onto her. As he awkwardly makes his way past customers, Anna watches as he apologizes to the various women he accidentally brushes against.

Kristoff stands at the makeup counter Anna is occupying, drumming his fingers against the glass case as he carefully thinks over what to say.

“Can I help you?” Anna snaps quietly, feeling bad for a moment as she sounds harsher than intended.

“Yeah, I uh…” He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, not making eye contact with the young woman. “I came to apologize.”

“Did you?” Anna inquires, cocking a brow as she crosses her arms. She cannot bring herself to believe him quite yet, as he had yet to make eye contact with her.

“Yes!” He barks, frustrated by this woman’s pride. Kristoff takes a deep breath to calm himself. “It was brought to my attention that I was a real asshole yesterday.”

“Really?” Anna responds flatly. “And what gave you such an idea?”

“I-It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to come here to apologize…and to talk.” His gaze drifts to the glass case, focusing on his hands.

Anna’s gaze drifts away from Kristoff for a moment, noticing Mrs. Steiner staring at the two of them with interest. “Meet me at The Clarence pub in about 30 minutes.”

“What?” Kristoff questions, his brows furrowed in response.

“Have a drink while you wait.” Her eyes dart back to Mrs. Steiner to see the older woman inching close. Anna plasters on her best fake smile at the young man as she uncrosses her arms. “Yes, sir, as I mentioned before, you’ll find cookware on the third floor.”

Kristoff stares at the young woman as if she had lost her mind at that moment, trying to understand what the hell she is talking about. Her eyes rapidly shift from him toward her supervisor, causing him to glance over his shoulder to understand what is happening.

“Ah, yes. Well, thank you for all your help.” Kristoff responds somewhat stiffly before turning away from Anna, shoving his hands back into his coat pockets as he walks toward the door. Anna huffs that he doesn’t move towards the elevators to keep up their charade.

Panic instills in her as Mrs. Steiner stands in front of her, glaring at the girl coldly. “What did that customer want?”

“I’m not sure,” Anna shrugs, noting the look of disdain on her supervisor’s features. “He came in asking for a lipstick that would make his girlfriend look like Gene Tierney. I started showing him some samples, and then he asked about cookware. Then he just left.”

“Hmm…how odd.” Mrs. Steiner comments, her gaze not leaving Anna for an instant.

“It really was.” Anna nods, her fingers playing with the cuffs of her forest green collared dress. She learned not to play with the pussy bow on this dress around her supervisor, who would snap at her for fidgeting.

Without a response, Mrs. Steiner glances down, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “Clean your counter in the last 20 minutes of your shift.”

Anna stares at her supervisor in confusion as the older woman strides away from her. She had cleaned the glass earlier this morning. The young woman looks down to the glass, only to find finger smudges from where Kristoff had stood.

She huffs in frustration. He really isn’t making this easy on her.

Anna could hardly wait to leave work once her shift had finished. Rushing towards the lady’s breakroom to grab her coat and purse. She huffs upon leaving the department store to find it is raining, she had forgotten her umbrella at home. Quickly, Anna races down the street towards The Clarence, not caring if her braids were unravelling.

As she reaches the pub, Anna pauses outside the building in the rain, catching a glimpse of herself in the door’s glass. Her eye makeup is slightly smudged from the rain, and her lipstick clinging to the creases in her lips. Her auburn hair now in loose brains and whisps of her hair sticking to her cheeks.

Pushing open the door, Anna steps into the building in her wet clothes, shivering as warmth begins to overtake her body. She glances around the bar, spotting Kristoff in the same spot she had sat with Olaf only a week ago. Her gaze focused on the man; Anna moves through the crowd.

He already has a dark beer in front of him, nursing it while he waits. Anna occupies the seat across from him without a word, shrugging her wet green coat from her shoulders as he watches her.

Her dress’s cuffs are wet, causing the young woman to unclasp the cuffs and roll them up to her elbows. She wonders what this man in front of her must think of her looking a mess. A server quickly rushes to their side.

“Can I get you anything?” The young woman asks, not bothering to take out the pad of paper in her apron pocket.

“Could I get a pint of Newcastle?” Anna asks, feeling awkward as she orders. She never ordered beer anymore since she started to see Hans. It felt unladylike for her to do so.

The server nods with a polite smile before turning to Kristoff. “How are you still doing?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Kristoff offers a polite smile back, his face falling as the server walks away from their table. It falls silent between them once again. Before Kristoff mutters, just barely above a whisper. “You’re right.”

Anna stares at the young man, initially shocked. A smile crosses her features as she flutters her eyelashes innocently, cupping her hand against her ear. “I’m sorry. What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the crowd.”

Kristoff rolls his eyes, glancing around the pub with only two other men in the room. “You were right!”

Anna sits back in her chair, cockily, crossing her arms over her chest as her smirk grows. “Well, I’m glad to see you can be reasonable, at least some of the time. Maybe I should’ve found you at the dingy pub yesterday.”

“The bar isn’t dingy it’s just…historical.” He shrugs. The server places the pint in front of Anna before moving onto the other table without another word.

“I felt like I was going to be murdered in it,” Anna states, using both hands to pick up the heavy pint glass to take a sip from it. A small smile ghosts over his features at her comment, which makes Anna pause for a moment. If he were to trim his beard and hair, actually take care of himself, she could understand why one might find the man in front of her to be quite handsome.

“You would have been fine.” He responds, taking a sip of his beer.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re a giant yank!” Anna exclaims. “Any person in that neighbourhood wouldn’t dare to pick a fight with you.” “I really think you’re over-exaggerating.” Kristoff pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it before inhaling. He reaches over the table with the pack of smokes, offering her one.

“No thank you, I don’t smoke.” Anna refuses, her finger twitching at the urge. Smoking was a habit of hers, which is in the past now; she hadn’t smoked since she worked in the factory during the war.

Kristoff nods, exhaling the smoke away from Anna. Silence falls between the pair once again. The sound of glasses clinking against one another echoes throughout the pub as the bartender puts them away. She suppresses the urge to bite her nails with a sigh, drumming her fingers against the table.

The man sighs, taking another sip of his beer. The pint glass thuds against the table as he places it down, his eyes meeting hers once again.

“Why did you ask me here? I assume it has to do with my attempt to reach out to you the other day” Anna inquires, unable to take the silence any longer.

“It is…” Kristoff sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been searching for…someone since the war ended, and I haven’t gotten anywhere.” His eyes drop to the table, staring at the wooden surface dolefully.

Anna stares at the man across from her. A very different man from the one earlier this evening and the other day. She wonders if perhaps that man who poked fun at her and drinks away his days in the pub is somehow a person who tries to forget. Someone, just like herself.

“I know how you must be feeling.” She nods, her fingers brushing away the condensation away from the pint glass. “I-I’ve been searching for her four years now. Every time it felt like I gained an inch, I went back one foot.”

Kristoff slowly glances up at her. “I gave up. My letter to the Pentagon last year was my last attempt, but then everything was classified.”

“Yet you stayed in England?” Anna inquires without thinking. He goes quiet, avoiding eye-contact with the young woman. She feels a twinge of guilt from unable to control her impulses. It was something her father and mother always scolded her for, recalling her mother nearly shouting at her after an incident.

You need to learn to think before you act, Anna Margaret Rendelle.

Even as an adult, those words rang true. As she opens her mouth to apologize, but Kristoff simply nods in response as he takes another drag of his cigarette. “Yeah…I did. Just in case I heard anything about her.”

“Who was she?” Anna can’t help but ask, placing her elbows on the table and cradling her chin in her hands. She wonders if he is searching for his lover, Anna always had loved romance. It was something Elsa used to tease her about a lot, back when they were close.

Kristoff finishes his beer, placing the glass loudly on the table and exhales loudly. “It doesn’t matter.” His entire demeanour changes with that, as if pulling himself away from how he feels about this. “What documents do you have to help your search?”

“Oh! Umm…” Anna trails off, unprepared for that question as she grabs her purse. Pulling out the envelope from her bag and sliding it across the table. Kristoff opens the folder, glancing over the documents. “I was given a copy of my sister’s enlistment forms. It says she parachuted into France near Arras.”

“Alright, here is what I suggest. We’ll drive to Folkstone an-”

“I don’t have a car.” Anna blurts.

“Just listen, I do.” Kristoff calmly explains, closing the folder with the documents. “From there, we’ll take the ferry across the channel to Le Havre.”

She stares at him, a small smile crossing her features. He had come to the pub with a plan. No one had ever gotten this far with planning her search. “And where would you propose we go to next?”

“From Le Havre, we’ll drive to Arras…and I guess…just hope someone knows something.” Kristoff sits back in his chair, sliding the documents back to Anna as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Anna glances down at Kristoff’s empty glass and her nearly empty one. She stands from the table with her hands on her surface. “What are you drinking? I’ll buy us the next round.”

“Guinness draught,” Kristoff responds, smiling up at the young woman. Anna nods, tapping the table twice with her right hand before meandering towards the bar. It is going to be a long night.

Author’s Note: I apologize for any bad edited, I'm so tired but so excited about this chapter!!

Also, Kristoff will get less confrontational over time!

I kinda went down a rabbit hole with the geography for this, but basically like Dean and Flower Walk, and Thrawl were like the worst crime streets in London during the victorian era. And Ten Bells is an actual historical pub in the neighbourhood.

#kristanna #elsamaren #anna #elsa #kristoff #honeymaren #Rise to Me #frozen #WWII au

9 notes · View notes

taeguboi · 5 years ago

Text

“Go Get ‘Em” - Jimin x Tall!Reader [Fluff]

Where are my tall girls at? I wanted to show some appreciation by writing this small piece after seeing this post here

A/N: I am only 5′7 myself and I’ve only experienced something similar once, when I was seeing someone shorter for maybe a couple of weeks, so I’m really sorry if I have written anything inaccurate or anything that makes anyone feel offended. I am additionally sorry for not proofreading before posting and for not being very creative lmao

Fiction Masterlist

You always looked so amazing to Jimin. You were iconic with the way you could pull off any look, whether it was those high waisted trousers paired with a crop top or high heels with a red dress.

It all started with a glance across the room when you were spending time with your friends and he was hanging with his. He was adorable. He has this cute smile that feels like sunshine radiating across the room and you remember how his cute little hands grasped his coffee cup that day as he took a sip of that caffeinated drink when you first saw him.

Jimin was actually the first one to approach you after you had spent about half an hour being hyped up by all your friends to go over and talk to him because, quote, “guys just don’t have the balls anymore”.

You were pleasantly surprised that you didn’t have to be the one to talk to the guy first. You were always taller than everyone else in school and along the years, you had developed a certain sense of self-consciousness about your height after repeated comments about you and the guys you’d date.

“Doesn’t it weird you out?”

“Why would you even date a guy who’s shorter than you?”

“You know maybe you shouldn’t wear your heels to the prom y/n…”

It bothered you and it hindered you from dating anyone at all in the many years you’ve been out of education now. You always had to be the one to ask a guy out because he was either too intimidated or embarrassed to even approach you, yet the stark reality was that you were super shy and you could give anyone all the love in the world if you wanted to.

You and Jimin sat for hours talking once you had introduced yourselves and gotten comfortable with each other. He didn’t even appear to care when you got up out of your chair when he offered to walk you home; in fact, he held his elbow out for you to link on to and you happily walked down the street together.

When Jimin asked you to be his girlfriend, it felt like a God send. You finally found somebody who was handsome, charming, extremely good abs… who cared if he wasn’t tall, dark and handsome, just dark and handsome?

Well for some reason, a lot of strangers seemed to be bothered by the appearance of a taller girl with a guy who doesn’t reach her height. Weird looks and snide remarks when they thought you couldn’t see or hear was kind of a bummer. It wasn’t even anyone else’s business though; any other couple walking together hand in hand in public and they probably wouldn’t bat an eyelid, not even wanting to see or get involved with any of their public displays of affection.

You stopped wearing your heels after a couple of months of the relationship. In fact, you threw many of them out or gave them to charity, bar the expensive ones. You started to make sure that whenever you took a photo with Jimin, you were both seated or on a slope with him on the raised part. You found yourself starting to have to justify why you’re dating him whenever anyone came at you with those same remarks you’d received in high school… Yeah, it turns out people don’t grow up fast, and they don’t learn to defy social expectations and instead encourage them and all the prejudices that some with staying ‘normal’.

One day, just as the two of you were getting ready together for a night out with friends - who by the way had been nothing but fully supportive of you two being together - Jimin had noticed something. As gorgeous as you were to him in your outfit for the night, he couldn’t help but think about how much he missed some of your most classic outfits with which you’d wear heels.

Jimin adored you from the moment he saw you across the room. Sure, it was a little surreal when you brought yourself to your feet on that first day he met you and you may have slightly towered over him, but you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a girlfriend. You’re loyal, warm, funny and to him you’re a supermodel.

Jimin is proud to be dating you, to have you by his side. Sure, the comments about his height did make him feel a little conscious at times, but there was nothing he could do about his height, or his feelings, or that his soul mate was a few inches taller than him.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah Jimin?” you ask, applying your lipstick as you sat at the dresser.

“I… uh… Not that I’m telling you what to wear, but… Don’t you normally have… a different pair of shoes with that outfit?” he questions, coming up behind you and rubbing your shoulders affectionately.

Your heart sank a little at this, knowing that the pair of shoes you normally would have worn with your best dress and prettiest cardigan were on the top of the closet out of sight and out of mind where you couldn’t see them to dwell on the fact that they make you miles taller than your boyfriend.

“I know…I just fancied a change I guess” you lie with a sigh, not thinking about how Jimin can see and read your expression through the mirror.

The way your head tilted down and your lips didn’t even so much as point just a little bit upwards from each corner told Jimin that you felt something different to what you were telling him.

“Oh, really?” he asks, seeing if he could maybe gently coax it out of you.

“Yeah…” is all you can reply.

“That’s a shame” he sighs, planting a kiss on your cheek as you pop the lid back on your lipstick. “They were kind of my favourite on you, that’s all”

You take a deep breath and let out an exasperated sigh. You know you can’t, or shouldn’t, hold this in anymore. This was eating at you for real now.

The other day at the park was what really did it for you. Some dude came up to the two of you, an old school friend of Jimin’s. At first, he seemed friendly enough and the three of you were chatting and getting along just fine. It was what he said when he had to go that changed your opinion of him and apparently your opinion of how you should dress around your own boyfriend.

“Snagged a tall girl, eh Jimin? How much did you pay for her then?”

You managed to laugh it off right there and then, convincing yourself that the guy had non malicious intention but you couldn’t stop thinking about those words, running through your mind, even in his voice though you barely knew him, like it was just a few seconds ago.

“I’m sorry, I guess I just didn’t want people thinking you’d spent a great deal of money to have me on your arm” you reply in a bad attempt to make light of your problem, not meaning for it to come out as rude or snappy as it does.

Jimin’s face dropped as you produced that sentence. You’d both been over this before. You had spoken about the highly likely chance that any time the two of you went out together, someone would say something. Your relationship is perfectly normal, everything about this is perfectly normal; people just aren’t used to seeing the height advantage being on a girl and not the guy because it’s not something they see often.

You had so confidently told Jimin that you loved him no matter what and that you wouldn’t let this affect you… he was kind of surprised to hear you say this now after weeks of you being silent on the matter. He thought you might have actually recovered from the initial shock of it all.

“Y/n…” sighs Jimin, giving you a big cuddle from behind by snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry babe” you sigh, a little smile not failing to escape your mouth from the hug.

“Talk to me” he advises, sitting down on the bed next to the stool you’re sat on.

Turning to face him, you do your best not to make yet another sigh.

“I feel like I embarrass you” you pout rigidly, eyebrows furrowed.

“Honey…” Jimin drawls out, reaching for your hands to hold. “It’s a lengthy process I know; brushing off the stupid comments and the strange looks but… In the end, that’s their problem, not ours that they don’t think that’s how a couple should look. You even said yourself, it’s what’s inside that counts. I remember that specifically when you were telling me how amazing and charming I am…”

You playfully push Jimin’s shoulder as you sit down next to him on the bed and you smirk at his little light-hearted comment.

“I guess I’m just finding it difficult still, even after all these years” you admit.

“Come here” he replies, bringing you in for a hug.

Jimin’s hugs feel perfect, not like what anybody else speculated. It’s no different to that of a girl being shorter than a guy, really, and Jimin knows this himself from having previously dated girls shorter than himself.

“I’m sorry”

“No, no, we’re not doing that again” Jimin intervenes before you can allow the sting in your eyes to turn into tears.

“But I--”

“Tonight, we’re taking a stand. We’re in control” he insists, rubbing your back and then pushing you away so that he can look you in the eyes.

“We’re going to embrace it. You’re going to put on those sexy heels and you’re going to wow everybody and you’re going to make everybody jealous that they can’t have you. And I’m going to hold my head up high and be proud that only I get to dance with you and I’m the only one who gets to kiss you”

“What about the people who say all those horrible emasculating comments about you though?” you ask. This is one of the biggest reasons you wear flats more often now. It hurts you to watch Jimin being insulted in that way. He isn’t feminine or any less of a man at all. He’s a gentleman who treats you right, he loves you and adores you and he makes it be known to you, and God knows that in the bedroom, he has this way with his words that really make you feel a certain way…

“I stopped listening to those people years ago” replies Jimin.

He’s right! Even if this talk only temporarily boosts your confidence about the issue, you’re going to fling these flats off, go straight to the closet, and god dammit you’re going to rock it!

The grin on your face shows Jimin that his words have gotten to you just right. He says nothing as he watches you reach for a foot to slide off your shoe and fling it across the room.

“Woah, easy there, tiger!” he jests watching you grab the other shoes from your other foot.

“Okay, sorry, got carried away” you giggle this time carefully placing the shoe on the ground.

“It’s okay. I’m just happy to see you happy” he smiles.

He’s right. You are happy. You love those heels. Your fashion taste is a part of who you are. Letting other people influence the way you dress meant letting other people influence your personality.

As you rush to that closet to reach for the heels, you grin a little more as you think about all the things Jimin has told you he admires about you and loves about your height. He loves how you can reach things for him that he sometimes can’t. He loves how you could have a career just sitting and looking pretty if you really wanted to. He even loves how when you’re both getting in the mood with each other, he doesn’t have to bend over to devour one of your breasts with his mouth.

It’s these reasons and a lot more beneath the surface that Jimin adores you increasingly with each day that passes. He watches you try to keep your balance as you put on your heels and he looks at you with such endearment.

You know when you experience something and have one of those ‘wow’ moments? Those times in which your heart flutters and you’re rendered speechless at the sight of that certain something? That’s exactly how Jimin feels as he watches you walk back over to him in all your glory in the one pair of shoes that you had really wanted to wear deep down tonight.

“Stunning” is all Jimin can say as he brings himself to his feet to bring you in for a sweet kiss.

_________________________

Fiction Masterlist

55 notes · View notes

tellmewhatyouc · 4 years ago

Note

frobin?

ship ask memes: 1 | 2

first of all YES

What made you ship it?

i think when i was watching the water 7 saga and went looking for ~franky content~ i realized people shipped them? and the more i saw them interact in enies lobby the more i just. yes <3

What are your favorite things about the ship?

i love their canon relationship. i don’t write them a lot for that specific reason- i don’t have much to add to it! i just really like how they interact and how they’re like the mom and dad of the straw hats.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

idk if this is unpopular but? i don’t really care if it becomes canon. like i’m sure if in an epilogue, oda’s like “once they retired the pirate life, franky and robin got married and had 3 kids” i’d be like :) but as of right now i really like the fact that there’s not really any prominent romance in op. i like that they can riff off of each other and have a close relationship without any “what are we” stuff or the drama that often comes with romantic relationships in media.

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

we know this but in a modern au i like the idea that they met in college or something, maybe at one of their jobs? i’m partial to mechanic franky so maybe she came in for repairs and franky was just instantly smitten

What was their first impression of each other?

i think, aside from all the enies lobby Drama, robin thought he was just a big goof with a heart of gold (which lbr he is). once franky could settle down after everything he got a good look at robin and was like oh my god. she’s beautiful

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

it doesn’t matter the universe i love the idea that all their friends ship them

Who felt romantic feelings first?

hmmm franky, like i said i think he was just instantly smitten but maybe robin took a bit to warm up to him

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

nah, i think maybe robin might have some trouble being Truly Vulnerable with another person but i think because of their circumstances in enies lobby they were pretty close from the start. she’s comfy.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

franky would just be 😍😍😍 and i think robin would probably laugh but warm up to the idea pretty quickly

GENERAL

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

i forgot to answer this one apparently but u know what it's fine we don't wanna think about it

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

i think franky probably initiated things and i’d say it was well received, like robin was just sort of Waiting

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

i think they go v traditional and go out for a nice dinner together

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

What was their first kiss like?

slow and gentle and Tender

i think franky is robin’s first, but maybe not the other way around

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

franky is so goddamn tall but i feel like more realistically in a modern au he’d be just a few inches taller than her

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

well. neither of them seem to have any biological family left, and their chosen family is pretty much the same people so pretty good i’d say

Who takes the lead in social situations?

hmm probably franky, i feel like he’s more extroverted

Who gets jealous easier?

i’d say franky’s more Protective but not necessarily jealous

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

ROBIN

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

oh franky

What are their primary love languages?

i feel like franky does like. big romantic declarations of love and he’s big on pda. robin is more reserved but she likes to give him compliments and make him blush

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

FRANKY he loves to act like they’ve never met before and she’s this beautiful woman he’s seeing for the very first time (and the fact that he’s done that in canon jst makes me Cry)

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

like i said franky’s bigger on pda but robin doesn’t mind it, she’s happy to go along with it

Who initiates kisses?

i’d say it’s pretty evenly split

Who’s the big and little spoon?

oh they alternate

What are their favorite things to do together?

they like to go out to eat and try new restaurants together, they go to a lot of museums and aquariums too

Who’s better at comforting the other?

i’d say robin’s better at comforting franky bc franky is so much more Emotional and just ends up crying with her

Who’s more protective?

mmmfranky

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

i think franky’s bigger on verbal affection but robin’s more physical

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

oh,,, sucker and what a man gotta do by the jonas brothers i feel those

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

i don’t think they do nicknames much? maybe franky uses pet names sometimes

Who remembers the little things?

hmmm robin

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

franky probably

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

oh it’s a big bangin party with all their friends

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

a couple at least, i think they’d be very kind and smart like their parents 🥺

Do they have any pets?

i think i wrote them with a cat named tom once bc i just love giving characters pets named after their dead relatives idk

Who’s the stricter parent?

franky but only bc he’s more protective & cautious

Who worries the most?

FRANKY,

Who kills the bugs in the house?

,,robin

How do they celebrate holidays?

probably going to their friends’ parties/hosting one themselves, but they make time for each other too

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

oh robin for sure

Who’s the better cook?

neither of them are Stellar but they do their best, they like to cook toghether

Who likes to dance?

they both do but i think franky initiates it more often

#I HAVE A LOT TO SAY #ty anon #ask #headcanons

4 notes · View notes

dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

Text

1 2

Let into the stranger’s apartment, Levi didn’t know whether to be impressed or not by its sheer emptiness. The man really seemed to only give two fucks about having a roof over his head, everything else was goddamn bleak once the apartment lights came on

“Sit on the sofa, I’ll get the first aid kit”

Right. The kid in front of him was too old to hold any youthful charms. There were no “welcome to my humble abodes”, but there was also no “don’t fucking bleed to death on my sofa”, leading him to wonder how many damn strays the man dragged home with no thought of his own safety. His host didn’t even close the door behind them, disappearing off through a door as Levi was left to limp him way into the living area, eyes drawn to massive fucking bong sitting on the table. Great. His “goddamn saviour” was a pot smoking hippy determined to do his good deed for the day.

Everything seemed to hurt as Levi sank onto the sofa. Pulling out his wallet and phone, he chucked them lightly on the table, before freeing himself of his jacket, and kicking back to examine the apartment closer. Other than the bong, the place wasn’t as terrible as it could be. The paint work seemed passable, the furniture served its purpose. Heck, the man had a small bookcase of what seemed to be well read classics, two photo frames sitting on the top shelf, summing up the total everything personal inside the space.

“Scotch, bourbon, or beer?”

Levi jumped, alpha growling lightly at the fact he’d let himself get distracted

“Got any water?”

Clanging from kitchenette connected to the living area, the way the man slammed his cabinet grated on Levi’s nerves. The typical alpha punk snorting, before replying

“You’re gonna want something harder when I’m stitching that hand of yours up”

“Tea?”

“That’s a new one. I’ve got coffee”

If Levi had wanted coffee, he would have asked for coffee. Nothing tonight was going fucking right

“Double shot scotch”

“I suppose you want ice”

Levi shrugged. It all pretty much tasted like warm piss, iced or otherwise

“Oh, man, sure... If you’re offering”

Chuckling at him, the stranger had an alright laugh. For a man he didn’t give two shits about, he wasn’t completely fucking awful

“Careful, there. You’re verging on being polite”

“I’m always polite”

“Says the one calling me a “lanky shit””

Being five-foot-fucking-three was shameful for an alpha. All his damn life people treated him like a fucking runt, not that Levi had an issue with it. He just wasn’t as tall as the strange brown haired man who’s sofa he was now bleeding onto, and apparently needed to care about this right now

“You fucking are”

Bring over the first aid kit and his scotch, the man quirked an eyebrow at him. Levi nearly blinking in shock. Never in his life had he set eyes on a set of eyes so damn green... Scruffy around the edges, the man had shed his leather jacket in favour of a black hoodie, brown hair pull back into a messy bun, not missing a beat as he quirked a smile at him

“And you’re a grumpy old man, aren’t you?”

Yeah. And the man who probably an escaped lunatic that’d murdered his mother and eloped with his sister, knowing Levi’s luck

“Fuck off”

“You know what they say, “6 out of 7 dwarves aren’t happy”. Give me your hand, I’ll take a look”

Holding his hand out Mister Lanky-fuck, as Levi had now decided to call him, sat on the edge of his coffee table. Even with the sofa a few inches taller with the cushion, Lanky-fuck had the never to be taller than him. One look at the man’s grease stained hands had the alpha wrinkling his nose

“Leave the kit, I’ll handle it. I don’t know what I’m likely to catch from those hands of yours”

“Don’t be such a baby. They have these magical things called gloves and sanitizer, my father would murder me if he ever thought I was patching someone up without gloves on. Are you always so damn uncooperative?”

What the fuck? The man in front of him seemed ready to fucking pout. He might have only just seen his face a few moments ago, but now Levi was stuck between the awkwardness of not knowing how young the kid was, or how old the man was... Normally he considered himself quite well versed in the subtle act of people watching. It kind of came in handy sizing up the man who wanted to beat you arse before a fight. Snarkily he shot back

“I don’t know, do you bring home every alpha you meet?”

The stranger shrugged

“I don’t know. Never brought anyone here before so I guess that’s a no. Now, let me fix you up then I can go the fuck to bed with it your death on my hands”

Snorting, and despite the sheer randomness of the situation, Levi wasn’t sure he would mind being murdered by the man in front of him. He seemed easily as cranky as he was, and he’d been looking for something to break the daily grind. Catching his tongue, the alpha blinked in self induced shock, realising he’d very nearly asked if going to bed involved going to bed to fuck. None of this was like him. He never wanted... he was on suppressants. The dumb blonde beta who’d busted his lip must have shaken his brain loose, either that or the late nights were finally catching up with him

“Wash your hands then put the gloves on”

“God. I’ve got you. You’re not the first person I’ve patched up. I would tell you to wash your hand off first but that would hurt like a bitch”

“This dump has an actual shower?”

“With soap and all”

Letting out a low whistle, Levi fooled no one with his tiny bit of actual surprise that somewhere so crappy would have working facilities. If anything the only “foolish” thing would be how much of a fool he was making of himself right now

“I don’t believe it, maybe you’ll have to show me”

Fuck. Fucking. Fuck. Abort. What he meant to say was “If you don’t mind, I’d actually prefer to wash my hands and face”. Not that... Confusion clouded the strangers features, followed by a heavy frown in his direction. Heck. Now the brat looked old enough to be pushing 30. Being “baby faced” had to have its damn limits

“Listen. You can shower if you want. You can eat my food. Hell, you can put your clothes through the washing machine and dryer. I didn’t bring you home for a fuck, and if you think I did, you’ve got it all wrong. I brought you home because you dying on our fucking back step would probably cost me a job I can’t afford to lose”

This was going terribly. Would things go better if he tried to introduce himself? He had no intention of running into this kid again, so what was the point giving him his name?

“Calm your shit. It was a joke. Just fix my hand and I’ll take it from there, Mister Lanky-fuck”

Sighing at him, Mister Lanky-fuck appeared done with him

“That’s a new one. It’s Kruger. My name... Do you really have to keep scowling at me?”

What kind of a name was “Kruger”? Was it a first name? Or a last name? Or a nickname? Nope. He didn’t care. None of this mattered anyway

“I’m not scowling”

He couldn’t help it. Time and time again he’d been told he’d look less murderous should he open his eyes just that little bit wider. He didn’t know what people expect from that shit. His face was pretty much set the same way it’d always been... something referred to as “resting bitch face”, if his idiot friend was to be believed. Having been forced to think about it left a scowl on his face. Kruger snatching up his hand before Levi could grimace at the amount of germs

“Right. Sit there and drink your scotch. I’ll have this done as soon as possible”

Neither man had any idea of how fateful this first meeting would be, least of all Eren who wasn’t sure he’d done an actual good dead. He hadn’t learned the strange short alpha’s name, only that he took stitches like he’d had them a hundred times before. Patching the bastard back up, Eren forced himself to remember that politeness did exist, though there did seem to be some kind of polite mutual annoyance at the world between them that he didn’t think he was imagining. Whatever. He’d shown the man around his apartment, told him to use whatever was there... then crashed so hard he really could have been murdered in his sleep.

Come the following afternoon, Eren had woken to find the stranger gone and for some unfathomable reason his washing done, ironed, and neatly left on his coffee table. Hell, he might have just taken him to bed had he known he’d get free housework out of it. Whatever the fuck last night was, that was the last time. The stranger was gone, and with the beating he’d gotten the night before, it was severely unlikely he’d ever see him at the garage again. God. His sister was going to kill him for this... good thing she was never going to find out about him acting on a stupid whim.

2 notes · View notes

dancing-sword · 4 years ago

Text

Catrina’s Story: Megumi

So I started this back last year when @bace-jeleren first showed off. I've been working on and off for forever and I finally was able to finish it.

Megumi and Sophi, but it took me months to even get halfway through this. I finally had the creative burst to get finish it and knocked out the last half last couple days.

“Found you,” Sophi said in a soft voice with a smile.

Megumi returned with a broad, toothy smile of her own before looking around, her feet already carrying her forward. The only sound around was the ever so slight breeze rustling the thick branches over head. Moonlight bathed the world in pale light and for a second Sophi believed they were on Innistrad, but a feeling deep down told her this was not home. There were little things off that her angelic senses could tell and she thanked any higher force that be that Megumi hadn’t stumbled back to her home.

The path they followed was winding and partially overgrown from disuse. It meandered along rocky outcroppings and around trees and oftentimes disappeared in the brush. There was the occasional broken down fence and the sparse ruins of some old outpost that would always pique Megumi’s curiosity and lead her to pepper Sophi with questions about this and that, although Sophi found much of them hard to answer since she was certain she had never been to this plane before. Eventually the treeline broke and opened up to a large clearing. The road they had followed ran off into the horizon over low rolling hills and disappearing into fog-covered mountains.

Megumi fell slightly and stumbled for a step as her feet hit the ground. She wasn’t sure if she was getting any better at this planeswalking business since she just appeared a few feet off the ground. The young soratami puffed out her cheeks in indignant embarrassment, knowing she could and should have easily just floated, but calmed quickly when she felt a hand on her head.

Just off the path standing in the brush bathed in moonlight, was a warrior woman. A beast twice the size of a horse laid slain at her feet, its crumpled body masked in the shadow of the tall grass. She withdrew her blade, long and grim and painted red from battle, from the corpse. As the breeze picked up, it carried the smell of battle towards the two and the scent of iron immediately sent a word through Megumi’s mind.

Blood.

She was no stranger to it. Her dad was a vampire after all and both of her parents dabbled in the macabre so the appearance of blood was not inherently concerning to her, but she was still just a child and the grisly spectacle before her sent a chill down her spine. She inched behind her angelic guarding, squeezing a bit tighter onto Sophi’s hand.

Sophi was hit a little bit harder than Megumi was at the scene. There was a lingering darkness behind the blood that she could detect where Megumi couldn’t and it brought old feelings bubbling up from within her. It was unmistakably demon blood before them and her years of fighting instinct as one of the Flight Goldnight were starting to bubble up, but so was something else. Feelings of hate and divine fury crawled up her throat as a lingering voice started to worm its way into her ears. For a second, her heart started to race as it began to dawn on her what was going to happen next until Megumi’s small hand gripped her own, grounding her. She swallowed the feelings back down, closed her eyes, and exhaled a sigh of relief as her heart finally started to settle.

When Sophi opened her eyes, she caught the woman looking back at them over her shoulder briefly before wiping the blood from her blade on the corpse. While not completely clean, the woman must have thought she was presentable enough as she turned and started to make her way towards the two. As she came closer, it became apparent how the woman won her bout, her unarmored arms and legs thick with muscle. Sophi guessed the woman might have been considered a towering person had she herself not been closer 7 feet tall. When the woman finally stopped a few feet from the pair she gave them a once over, her eyes squinting slightly at Sophi and her one brow raising at Megumi.

She licked her teeth in thought, her gaze both penetrating and unfeeling, before speaking. “It is unsafe out tonight. My camp is further down the road. You can rest there until you get your bearings.”

She spun around and started marching off, not waiting for a reply.

“I’m Megumi and this is Sophi! What’s your name?” Megumi exclaimed as she floated up to eye-level with the woman.

“My name is Catrina, little one,” Catrina replied, lacking the severity she had first appeared with much to Sophi’s surprise.

“Are you from here? Where are we anyway? You’re strong. Did you defeat the monster all on your own?”

“Yes, child, this is Freimrann. My home. And I did kill that creature. It had been terrorizing the countryside for some months now.”

Catrina entertained the curious Megumi with more details of her fight as the trio continued towards the campsite. Just off the road, following a beaten dirt path, it was nestled in the broken ruins of an old watch tower. Only three of the four walls still stood and much of the structure past the second floor had long since crumpled from decay.

“You can explore the tower if you would like, little one. Be careful though. It is sturdier than it seems, but can still be dangerous.”

“Don’t worry! I can flyyyyyyyyyyy!” Megumi yelled, gently floating up through a hole in the ceiling. She had to grab the ledge and pull herself, her tiny giggles fading as she disappeared from view.

Sophi on the other hand followed Catrina toward a makeshift fire pit, standing awkwardly to the side as her guide sat down on an old chair, relighting and stoking the fire.

“So, what is an Innistrad angel doing with a child Soratami? I can only assume you are not her mother.”

Sophi had to do a double take. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lie or do not, it does not matter to me. I am just curious to why you travel.”

Sophi paused as she took a seat of her own, unable to meet Catrina’s gaze for the moment nor could she see Catrina having an ulterior motive. “Megumi is lost. She cannot guide her planeswalking and travels to worlds at random. I am with her to make sure she is safe and that she returns to her parents.”

Catrina nodded. “Noble.”

With Catrina’s own curiosity satiated and Sophi not feeling terribly open with the stranger, a silence fell between the two aside from the crackle of the fire and the distant sound of Megumi’s play. Sophi could only twiddle her thumbs as Catrina began setting up her cooking supplies for a meal.

“So...” Sophi began, hoping to break the silence, “How did you know I was an angel?”

“Angels have a… a light to them. After the first few, you can recognize it pretty easily.”

“I- I’m sorry, but what do you mean by ‘the first few’?”

“The first few kills.” Catrina said off-handedly, more interested with the food she was starting to cook than the implications of her words.

“I- I’m- you- what-” All Sophi could do was stutter, utterly perplexed as her mind seemed to have trouble comprehending Catrina’s sentence. “You’ve killed angels before?”

“I have lived a long time and have killed many things. Sometimes for good reasons. Sometimes for not. Angels were in there somewhere.”

Sophi unconsciously dug her nails into her seat as her breath started to quicken and sweat started to bead on her brow. Part of it was because of the now unsettling feeling she was getting from her host, but the other were dark thoughts. She could feel they claw at her insides, whispers that flowed from the depths she had tried to bury them in. She desperately wanted to fight these feelings again, but their words were so tempting now. This woman had killed angels? How could someone destroy something so holy and pure and be safe from judgment or punishment? Each fleeting thought she followed pulled her along a path that spiraled further and further down into the darkness once more. Her vision tunneled, the shadows and branches seeming to grow long and jagged like twisted tentacles as they crept further into view. Before she knew it, her eyes were wild, her brow furrowed, and her breath ragged. A single word, almost not it in her own voice and barely audible over the crackle of the fire, slipped from her lips through gritted teeth.

“Sinner.”

Catrina paused, her collected gaze locking onto Sophi’s far more crazed one. Had Sophi been in a much more attentive mood, she would have noticed a quick flash of confusion and caution in Catrina’s eyes, but they disappeared quickly under her steely facade.

“You- you vile creature. You need to be cleansed-”

“What is your name.” Catrina cut the angel off, her tone less of a question and more of a command.

“Do not try to distra-”

“What is your name.”

Sophi was furious. How did this monster even think it was in any position to make demands. If it would not beg for forgiveness, maybe she should give it her name so it would know what to call out for in its dying breath. “My name is Sophi and I-”

“Where are you right now.”

Sophi gritted her teeth. How many more question was she going to be asked? “Freimrann. Your filthy home.”

Catrina at the very least let the angel finish her sentence. “And tell me why you are here.”

That gave Sophi pause as her racing mind seemed to hit a wall. She knew the answer, but it was struggling to come out passed the divine rage. “I was… I came here to...”

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

Sophi blinked as if light had been flashed in her face. The vitriol slowly left her voice as she spoke, “I follow Megumi. She is lost and I have promised to protect her.”

“Repeat it. From the beginning.”

“My name is Sophi. I am on Freimrann. I am following Megumi to protect her.”

“Good. Keep going.”

Sophi closed her eyes and repeated the mantra over and over, each time it brought her slowly back out of the madness. When she finally opened her eyes, the tower was back to its crumbling state, but at least the tree and the shadows were also back in their normal state.

“Thank you,” Sophi said softly. She couldn’t find the words to articulate her thanks and felt like anything she could say wouldn’t be enough.

“It is nothing,” Catrina replied, her focus already back onto the food in front of them, “I have seen many warriors lost to madness and battles with the mind and I have seen the toll it can take on a soul. I cannot say it will always bring you peace, but I do hope it helps. That being said, you can come down now, Child.”

Having been found out from her eavesdropping perch, Megumi slowly floated down from an upper floor and came to sit down near her guardian angel. The two chatted between themselves, Sophi reassuring Megumi she was doing better as the little soratami fretted over her. Catrina left them to their talk, only listening to them in passing as the food finished and she passed them their share.

As the group finished their meal and Catrina started to break camp, she paused, turning slowly to look off into the distance. Sophi and Megumi exchanged a confused look while their host held up a hand. “Someone has entered the plane. It does not feel familiar.”

A roar shook through the woods, guttural and angry that sent birds scattering in the distance. While Catrina was more curious than cautious, she raised an eyebrow to Sophi and Megumi’s horrified looks.

“I assume that is what you are protecting Megumi from.”

Sophi nodded, “That’s Grii. She’s a cyclops that has been chasing Megumi.”

Megumi nodded, gripping tightly onto Sophi’s sleeve as her eyes stayed locked on the direction of the scream.

Catrina liked her teeth as she considered her options. “Go,” she commanded, waving the pair off and much to their confusion.

“You don’t have to do this. We’ve gotten away from her before,” Sophi tried to reassure her, but did get up all the same.

“I will stall her. Or kill her. I have not decided yet.” Catrina kept her eyes on the treeline. “But I am curious and I want to see what is so worrisome.” Catrina stood at the sound of another roar, making her way to the edge of camp and only stopped when she felt something cling to her leg. Megumi had glided up and hugged her side. “It is okay, little one. It is not me that you will have to worry about. Now you two run along. I will be fine.”

Megumi floated back to Sophi. The pair gave Catrina one last thankful look before planeswalking to parts unknown. With that, Catrina stood like a sentinel, eyes once again locked in the direction of the roars. It didn’t take long until the towering form of the cyclops came into the clearing, snapping branches and kicking brush aside as she strode in.

“So the runt and the broken goods ran away again. Typical.” Grii growled, first looking around at the encampment before slowly turning towards Catrina with a large fanged smile. “But it looks like they left me something fun to play with. Well, old woman, do you want to tell me which way they went? Or do you feel like making this difficult?”

Catrina said nothing. All she did was give her a long judgmental gaze as she looked the cyclops up and down.

Grii snarled. “What? Are you deaf? I’m asked you-”

“Is this it? This is what they were scared of?”

It had been some time since Grii had last felt such utter confusion, a level of befuddlement that matched Catrina’s disappointment, but it was quickly replaced by an equal amount of rage. Grii roared and a wave of magic slammed into Catrina and a shiver shot down her spine. She seemed confused for only a moment before a small chuckle left her lips, the laughter only making Grii more furious.

“Fear?” Catrina asked in a mocking tone. The smile on her face was small, but it might as well have been a wicked grin towards the cyclops. Grii charged and threw a wild right hook at Catrina’s jaw, only to have her hand casually batted away with the side of Catrina’s palm. “Do you think you are the first to try that trick on me?”

Grii threw another combo of punches this time connecting against arm and rib before Catrina moved to slip around her fists and grab a hold of Grii’s shirt. All Grii felt was a quick lurch of movement before the world became a blur and found herself pushed flat on her back. She tried to push up, to pry herself from the woman’s grip, but it might as well have been a house placed on her chest.

“Show me why they ran. Do not disappoint me.”

Grii ripped and clawed at Catrina’s arm, scattering flesh and muscle before another blinding blur of movement and vertigo took her. Before she could even react, she felt the sudden and rapid string of blows to her back before she slammed to a halt against a large tree. She braced herself and looked up, the dozens of yards that now suddenly separated the cyclops and the human was filled with smashed trees and destroyed brush. In a single leap, Catrina cleared the broken stumps and scattered limbs, coming to a stop in front of Grii and stood above her.

Grii bellowed again, her scream blood curdling as another wave of chilling dread shot out from her. The wind gusted forward as well, harsh and cold and biting. It howled with the screams of her fallen prey.

Catrina did not budge.

“Did you think it would work better a second time?” She tossed Grii’s sword at her feet, the cyclops not even realizing it had fallen from her grasp after being launched nor the fact that Catrina’s arm had already mended itself. “I do hope you try something other than screaming at me.”

Grii snatched up her sword and swung for Catrina’s neck, dead set on silencing her once and for all. For the first time in this whole confrontation Catrina raised her blade, parrying the strike in a shower of sparks. She swung again and again, rage guiding her sword just as much as her instincts. She felt her arms burn with each strike as she put everything she had into them. Try as she might however, Grii found Catrina moved with a speed and strength she hadn’t expected. She’d swing down to crush the woman only to have her attack deflected and her blade dig into the ground. She’d cut with the force to split a tree only to have her attack stopped as if it was nothing. Catrina’s sword seemed to always be in the right place at the right time and she seemed prepared for attacks before Grii had even started moving.

The cyclops could feel her arms tiring now. Very few of her prey lasted more than a few her empowered swings and even fewer could resist the fear she could inspire. She could count the number of fights she’s fought that lasted more than a couple minutes on her hands. Nothing she did, no amount of fear or strength, seemed to deter this stoic woman. Her mind started to wander to thoughts of simply leaving the fight. She needed to get back to hunting down the twerp and the wannabe hero and then when she was done with them, she’d be back to put this woman down once and for all.

“I think I have seen enough.” Catrina slipped through Grii’s slowing attacks and distracted thoughts to grab her by the collar once more, a move Grii was all too over at this point. Catrina jumped and the sudden rush blood to her feet caused Grii’s vision to tunnel for a moment, coming back to clarity at the apex. They seemed to hover for a second as Grii recovered. They were a few hundred feet up now, far above the forest and far closer to the clouds than was comfortable for Grii.

As they started their descent and Catrina twisted in the air to position the cyclops underneath, it only took Grii a second to realize what Catrina had planned. She bellowed, slamming another wave of fear into Catrina as she ripped and clawed into her arm and face. Catrina held strong, unfazed as her blood and sinew scattered into the wind rushing by them.

Grii’s heart raced as she could feel the ground getting ever closer to the back of her skull. “NEXT TIME, YOU ARE DEAD!” she screamed over the wind. She focused through her own rage, on the lingering mana trail of the angel and soratami, and planeswalked just moments before impacting.

As the dust settled, Catrina stood up slowly from her crater, her body already stitched up from her scuffle in the air. She turned her head skyward, standing in silence feeling the mana trails fade from her world. She had considered finishing off the cyclops for Megumi and Sophi, but bruising Grii’s ego seemed good enough and she was confident the two could handle something like that on their own. Besides, this was a good way to build the child’s character. Maybe she would find them in a few months and see how they were fairing. She nodded to herself, and made her way back into the woods. She had hunting to get back to.

#writing #Catrina #Megumi #Sophi #Griii

17 notes · View notes

sablegear0 · 4 years ago

Text

A Story about my Snake Plant

I want to tell a little feel-good story about my snake plant progenitor beast mentioned in my previous post. Here’s a little positive parable about recovery from the rough shit that life can put you through.

Long post incoming, so story in full and some pics under the cut.

This is my snake plant, who for comedic effect I have referred to as the “snake plant progenitor beast” but I think that’s an apt title for it (her? Her.) She’s a variegated snake plant of as-yet-unknown species (I’ve never bothered to ask anyone to ID her, if you know, though, definitely drop a reply/comment) and is about... 7 years old, maybe a little older? She has two beautiful clone-children who also have window-spaces in our house (not pictured, couldn’t be bothered).

She’s my biggest plant; her tallest leaf there is about 23in/58cm, and her two cuttings are about the same size, maybe even a bit taller. Her original sprig is one of the yellowing leaves (the one with the brown bruise I think), which may be reaching the end of their natural life, but her roots are immortal and she continues to grow even now.

So here’s her story. Snake plant came to us about 7 years ago, shortly after I first moved in with my partner. A housemate brought home this sad little plant that consisted of a single leaf and a scraggly tuft of roots, severely dehydrated in a tiny plastic greenhouse pot. Now, our university often has little plant sales, usually during Orientation Week, so you can have some greenery to brighten up your dismal concrete dorm room. What made this tiny plant unusual was that she had found it at the end of the year, abandoned alone in the University Center, so she decided to take it home.

However, by her own admission, my housemate did not know how to take care of it, so I offered to try to save it.

The snake plant ended up being transplanted across a few different containers. First it lived in the Oddish pot (see linked post above) for a while, but there wasn’t enough space for its roots to keep it anchored. So I kept moving it gradually as it grew over the years until I settled on the current pot about 2 years ago. A plastic dollar-store affair that I chose for its size and built-in drain pan.

Then one day, the snake plant tried to escape. It was a mighty attempt, she tried heartily to escape her plastic bonds by doing something I didn’t know she could do, which was growing runners. See, while snake plants can bloom, and presumably go to seed if their flowers are pollinated, it seems their preferred way of reproducing is to grow these beefy runners from their roots, that come up through the ground as curled leaves which unfurl into more “snakes” as they mature.

Snake plant then became the snake plant progenitor, as she grew runners powerful enough to bend her pot and risk damaging it. I had to take her outside and pull her out of her pot, then take an edging shovel to her mass of inch-thick runner roots to split her up and repot her pieces. I divided two chunky pairs of leaves from her main body and planted them all separately in pots of about the same size.

Even now you can see she’s still growing and bending her pot. Her most recent runner is this big one that came up during the summer and is now very tall. (For a while I wondered if putting her in a clay pot would encourage her to grow dense instead of putting out so many runners. Apparently this is a BAD idea, I learned from some very helpful people on reddit that snake plants have a habit of exploding their clay pots.)

As mentioned above, she’s been going for 7+ years and shows no signs of stopping. Her first sprigs are damaged and starting to yellow but they’re still stiff and strong. Her clone-children haven’t produced any crazy runners yet but I know it’s only a matter of time before I have to split them too.

So why share this story about my absurd snake plant progenitor beast? Well, because of how she started out. She was tiny, wimpy and half-dead when my housemate brought her home - a single scraggly leaf that could barely stand up. It took a lot of trial and error to find her a comfortable spot to grow with the right kind of pot. But once she was settled, she just kept going. And the things she made kept going and are still going. And even though she’s scarred and yellowed on her oldest bits she’s going to keep going.

So don’t worry if you’re feeling tired, beat up, wilty, and abandoned. Don’t give up hope. Sometimes it takes some trial and error to find the right environment. And sometimes it takes a few years to really recover and grow. Just know that once you’re settled, you’re going to make some beautiful clones works, and with luck, those will go on to foster even more beautiful things.

#sable has a take #daily life #plants #houseplants #positivity #story time #open for questions

1 note · View note

achtung-attitude · 5 years ago

Photo

CHAPTER 32: Hotel California - Part 4

Moya, in horror, watches as Marsellus rises from apparent death, muttering something under his breath. She takes a step back, nearly stepping right into one of the open mouths, which snaps at her, flicking a red tongue. She scowls, and stamps her foot down onto the mouth, shattering its teeth. “Fuck this,” she decides, and turns for the door.

But the door is changed as well, savage teeth sprouting out of the edges and snapping aggressively. There is no longer any escape, it seems. Moya looks all around, and shudders at the sickly sound of the elevators DING open. But rather than people emerging through the door, instead a cascade of blood, several hundred gallons, spills into the lobby, advancing on her with frightening speed.

Before it hits, a clawed hand appears in her periphery. SATURN BARZ, struggling through the distortion affecting its body, swipes upward, and the blood explodes into red mist. “The stairwell! Go, quick!!” Moya heeds him, dashing for the emergency stairwell. WITCH MOUNTAIN stoops, pulling Jerome along with it. Moya slams the door behind her and leaves the lobby of horrors behind.

“What the FUCK was that?!” Moya exclaims after WITCH MOUNTAIN destroys the lock on the emergency exit, locking it shut.

“Keep moving,” Kilo answers, gradually regaining functionality in his limbs, but still carried by Moya’s Stand. “The whole building’s an enemy, and the bellboy won’t stop coming for us.”

She scowls, but follows his advice. She readjusts Shizuka in her arms, and WITCH MOUNTAIN lifts Jerome up by his waistband, holding both him and Kilo like heavy luggage. “What do you mean, the building is an enemy?” She asks, beginning to run up the stairs.

“I don’t get it myself, but somehow, the hotel itself has a Stand ability. It gets you high on all this good shit, makes you comfy, then it gets inside your head and sucks the soul right out of you. Or, it makes you a slave. Even if we kill the bellboy, we’ll still be trapped here. And then we’ll become just like him. We need to demolish the entire building.”

“Brainwashes you with comfort, huh? Explains why these two succumbed to it,” she gestures to Shizuka and Jerome.

“... Yeah. That habit of taking things at face value, it’ll be the death of her one day.” he agrees wearily.

With her shoulder, she opens the stairwell door to the second floor and walks in. “Taking a building down is a tall order, even between the two of our Stands. And since it looks like the bellboy can neutralize Stands with his ability, we’re gonna have to get creative. Can you walk yet?”

“Yeah, put me down,” he says, and WITCH MOUNTAIN does, allowing him to stand shakily on his own two feet. They stand facing each other, each breathless.

“It makes sense that you’d be immune, too,” Moya declares.

“What?”

“You’re so mistrustful. I bet you’ve never had a good thing to say about anything in your life.”

“... Is that your idea of a compliment, officer?”

“No it’s not, punkass.”

They smirk at each other, then turn at the sound of creaking floorboards. Like an image out of a dream, Paul Mann emerges from around the corridor. “Y-you--!!” he sputters upon seeing Kilo.

“... That’s Paul Mann. I know him, he’s some big shot real estate mogul,” Moya says.

“He’s the Congregation’s secret political backer. Dust hid him here after Phantasma died,” Kilo explains.

“... He’s fucking what?”

Mann begins to jog in the opposite direction. Moya drops Shizuka and Jerome to the floor. After a moment of shellshock, she sprints after him and dive-tackles him to the floor. “Is that true?!” she screeches, holding him in an arm bar “Are you really working with Brother Dust?!!”

“Who are you people?!!”

“Is it fucking true?!!”

“Gaagh, ok, yes! He approached me with an offer, he’d help me get out of a little legal trouble, even assist in my political campaign! In return, I’d look the other way on his more sketchy affairs! It was necessary, I-- I have a vision for this country! Sometimes men have to make hard choices for the good of th- AAOWW!” He wails as his shoulders cracks, nearly falling out of place.

“Do we have time for this? Right now?” Kilo says, observing. Moya reluctantly holds off from breaking Mann’s arm, and releases him.

“You stay right where you are, got it?!” she shouts. Mann responds by raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m working on it… I need to get outside. I can’t do anything while I’m inside the building. The hotel’s got control over everything inside it.”

“Then we gotta get our asses up to the roof.”

“Not us,” Kilo says, shaking his head, “There’s at least a dozen people in this building. You need to get them outta here. I have an idea, but it won’t leave any survivors. I won’t have innocent people dying because of me… What?”

“Ah, nothing,” she says, shaking herself out of staring at him. She turns her face away, trying to hide her surprise as she retrieves Shizuka and Jerome from off the floor., “Are you sure we should seperate? What are you going to do while I’m evacuating?”

“I’m gonna be killing a god,” he says, then turns without another word, leaving Moya aghast. She hesitates momentarily, then moves.

His insistence on preserving innocent life took her by surprise. Never had she imagined that the furious man she met on the beach could say something so righteous. “I’ll trust you, Kilo Staples,” she thinks, preparing her search for afflicted guests, “because you chose to trust me.”

***

Halfway up the stairs to the seventh floor, Kilo watches the 7 at the top of the stairs split in two. The wall cracks and bulges, opening to reveal a mouth full of dirty teeth and drool. Marsellus emerges out of this opening, covered in saliva. The smell of the hotel’s insides hangs off of him, reaching Kilo even meters away. The bellboy’s face twitches between a smile and a scowl, his movements are jerky and strange. “D-d-d-did you think you had lost me, s-s-sir?” he asks, CALIFORNICATION emerging next to him, crackling electricity.

“Nah, I didn’t,” Kilo responds. CALIFORNICATION moves, dashing down the stairs. SATURN BARZ waves its hands, but this proves to be a feint, as it delivers a sharp kick to the stairs in front of it. Instantly, the surface of the stairs turns to liquid, reaching up to where Marsellus stands.

The bellboy yelps as he loses all traction with the ground. CALIFORNICATION disappears, and its master slides down the stairs like an impromptu water-park. SATURN BARZ strikes the stairs again, and they solidify back into solid concrete. It crackles and traps Marsellus on his back, halfway down.

“Damn you!! E-even if you immobilize me, my Stand is faster than yours! It has a wider range than yours! You cannot defeat me!”

Kilo answers him with a kick to the face, before he climbs onto the guard rail and leaps straight up off of it, clambering up to reach the fire escape door to the roof.

Marsellus struggles and curses out, as CALIFORNICATION reactivates within him, generating electricity from the inside out. Water drips from the ends of his concrete prison, and he struggles, inching forward until the stone finally cracks enough that he can break free.

Kilo is about to touch the metal door handle. In the instant before he can, CALIFORNICATION slams its fist into the wall, directing arcs of static electricity to travel through the metal and electronics, up the stairs and infusing into the doorknob. Once his fingers close around it, the power moves up his arm and shoots him backwards into the guard rail.

“AAH!” he shouts, as much in frustration as pain. “SATURN BARZ!!” He summons his Stand, and it evaporates the door with an “URAAH!!” Clutching his quickly numbing arm, he runs through the doorway, stepping out onto the roof. He stumbles and falls, and sits up on his knees. The night sky is above him. He breathes the outside air.

“Enough,” comes the voice from the stairwell, “t-t-there is no longer anywhere to run! Your stay at the Hotel California will never end!” Marsellus steps into the door frame and leans against it. He is damaged, his skin blistered and cut, his left eye bloodshot. Yet he keeps going, driven by mad devotion for the sinister building that possesses him.

Kilo turns, digging his fingernails into his right arm, trying to awaken feeling in it. “You know what?” he declares, “I been thinking about what you said earlier.” SATURN BARZ emerges, sans a right arm. Nevertheless, it stands tall, beginning to stamp its foot rhythmically. It raises its one arm into the night air, reddish-brown vapor building in its palm. Marsellus summons CALIFORNICATION, but cautiously remains where he is.

“You said giving into the hotel frees you from struggle. What a load of shit. I heard you squealing for Dust to come save you earlier. You know what?” Kilo continues, “I think all this is, is that you was too much of a pussy to fight for the life you wanted.” SATURN BARZ swipes downward, and the vapor expands, rising into the air. With each swipe of its claw, the vapor builds into a great cloud, which rises into the air.

“A smokescreen?” Marsellus says, shaking out of his daze, “Did you not hear me? There is nowhere to r-r-run!! It doesn’t matter what you do to me or this Hotel, you’re DOOMED!!!”

“I’m not aiming to bring you down, ya little bitch. You ain’t worth it…” He says with a smirk, as the cloud of vapor ascends into the air. “You ain’t nothing but a puppet… the idea is… to cut off the hand holding the strings…!”

Marsellus bares his teeth and seethes, ready to unleash a torrent of electricity at Kilo. But, just then, he feels small drops of water hit the back of his outstretched hand. “ What the?…” he murmurs. He looks up, and the droplets fall from the cloud created by SATURN BARZ, hanging overhead.

“Rain…? Is this it?” he asks snidely, as further raindrops begin to fall on the roof around them, “Make it rain a tad, and then… what? Make the pipes rust?”

“You’re a native, right, aren’t you?” Kilo retorts, “Then you outta know, one of the worst parts of living here is all the fucking smog. Some days you can barely breathe…! And every so often, all that exhaust builds up, gets high enough, and it comes back down…” He winces as a raindrop lands on his cheek, and quickly wipes it off. He watches with satisfaction as Marsellus recoils, then grimaces in pain.

In horror, Marsellus stares at a hole that has formed in his hand, the flesh burned and blistered. It has been burned straight through, an injury replicated in his Stand’s hand. In the very spot where the raindrop landed.

“When all those fumes built up over weeks of traffic get high enough, sometimes they come back down! As acid rain!” SATURN BARZ manifests and shields its user from the raindrops, as all around him, they burn holes straight through the roof of the Hotel California

A bass moaning sound can be heard. The ground beneath them contorts, pelted on all sides by burning rain. The acidic cloud grows ever larger, and the clean concrete and brick architecture morphs into slick, organic flesh.

“N-no! NOO!!” Marsellus cries, apparently ignorant to his own flesh being gradually destroyed by the rain, his uniform falling in pieces off of him. CALIFORNICATION, too, degrades, its wrought metal body melting into useless scrap.

***

Downstairs, Shizuka bolts upright, leaping out of Moya’s arms and rolling, suddenly wide awake. “What happened?!” she cries, looking all around.

Jerome wakes at the same moment. “Oh, finally!” Moya exclaims, patting him on the back as he grasps his bearings.

“W-What’s going on? Wh… You! The cop!”

“Moya?! What are you doing here?” Shizuka exclaims, noticing her for the first time.

“No time to explain! Let’s get moving!” she shouts, shoving a man in front of her hard on the shoulder.

“I-I’m going, I’m going!” the man protests, revealing himself to be the lawyer from the room across from Kilo’s. He pulls his son along by the hand, desperately trying to keep him calm. A full procession of such people, all guests and prisoners of Hotel California, trail after Moya.

Paul Mann remains reluctantly by her side, his hands held behind his back by WITCH MOUNTAIN, a force that he cannot see. Many of them appear to shake their heads at the same moment, as if waking from a dream.

“Where’s Kilo?” Shizuka asks, following Moya, “What happened with the old man in the hallway?”

“I don’t know anything about that, but Staples is taking care of things. Looks like whatever he did worked…” she replies, then pauses, spreading her hands wide and bringing everyone to a halt.

A bulge forms in the ceiling in front of them, as if a load of water has been spilled and is deforming the plaster. After a moment, the bulge bursts and liquid spills out of it onto the carpet. There is a chemical scent of burning where the fluid interacts with the fabric.

“What in the world?” exclaims Paul Mann, and similar murmurs of confusion go up among the gathering. From all but Shizuka, who stares at the acid with terrible understanding.

“We- We need to get out of here… Now!” she implores Moya, who herself begins to understand upon seeing Shizuka’s face.

“Move! Move, move, move!” she yells, and the guests follow her commands as similar bulges form all over the ceiling, spilling deadly acid all over the floor, eating away at the hotel.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #achtung attitude #shizuka joestar #kilo staples #moya pezzente #c-king #witch mountain #hotel california #ch32

8 notes · View notes

alma-berry · 5 years ago

Text

Kit’s Secret Fire Message # 15

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Ty glared at his scrambled eggs. It was what he was used to eat in the morning, even at the Scholomance, but today the mere prospect of eating made his stomach squirm. Eat, he ordered himself, and shoved the fork into his mouth. He didn’t manage to to finish his plate, not with Kit sitting at the table, as far as possible from him, annoyingly not looking at him.

There were shadows under his blue eyes, and Ty wondered if he managed to get some sleep at all. He stayed up late, straying to hear the sound of the front door open, to know when Kit came back, but at some point he just collapsed into an uneasy sleep. As soon as he woke up, he called for Livvy and asked if she saw or heard anything, but she simply shook her head.

Kit wore fresh clothes though, not those he wore to the shadow market, and his fair hair was damp and smelled faintly of lavender, Ty noticed when he passed by him. That must mean he came back, or stayed somewhere else during the night. He had a hard time not thinking of the second option, of the werewolf boy in the market, of Kit’s shattered expression as he left the institute last night.

“Ok, so basically, we just need to go and pay that warlock a visit. Ask him if he knows something about the demons, right? That’s the only thing you managed to figure out last night?” Carl barked reproachfully at Kit.

In response, Kit narrowed his eyes and said “Yes,” with such venom Ty’s head popped up from his plate. “Did you manage to bring better results, with your undercover contacts?” He sneered at him.

Carl blushed but thankfully kept his mouth shut.

“It’s a good lead, Kit. We should definitely start there and see where it turns out.” Adam gave Kit a warm, encouraging smile. “If our initial theory is right, we don’t have much time to waste.. so let’s get ready. Kit, will you join us?”

“No,” Ty sprang to his feet and felt his cheeks burn with fierce intensity. Carl and Adam stared at him in confusion, but Kit wasn’t. He was glaring at his clinched fists with anger. Ty hasten to correct himself.

“I mean, we can’t all go. Something Hypatia said made it sound like he won’t appreciate a large party. I’ll go, with Kit.”

That made Kit look up at him with suspicion, but he didn’t turn down Ty’s proposition, not yet, which made him feel a little bit better.

Carl, on the other hand, lashed out immediately.

“You can’t go alone to see a warlock, Blackthorn. Not one you don’t know of it’s-“

“His. Not it’s. And I am more than capable of going alone to wherever I want, Carl, you know that very well. I don’t need your authorization, or your guidance.” Ty was no child. He knew he was younger than most of them, but he was capable just as they were, if not more. Especially in the case of Carl Lindquist.

“And in any case, I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Kit”. Ty felt Kit’s eyes on him like a thousand tiny prickles, but he didn’t dare to look his way.

“But, Ty…” Adam started with a soft, measured voice, “What do you mean by something Hypatia said? You weren’t there, were you?”

Ty felt the blood drain out of his face, and tried to think of a logical explanation for why he would know this information if he supposedly only heard about Kit’s conversation in the market this morning, for the first time. But before he could come up with something reliable, Kit spoke.

“I told him about it last night, he stayed up and waited for me.”

He said it so casually, with a steady voice and an honest expression. Ty snapped his mouth shut and tried hard not to look guilty.

Kit had lied for him. He covered up his stupid mistake, even though he was obviously still angry at him. Ty didn’t understand if it meant that there was a chance that he could be forgiven, but it gave him hope. That’s why he wanted to be alone with Kit, so he could apologise, so he could make it right.

Ty thought this was probably the right time for them to leave, but apparently Carl wasn’t done with his questioning.

“Well why didn’t you tell us that too? What else are you hiding from us, Herondale?” He said the last word like he was talking about about the filth under his fingernails.

Ty heard the drumbeat of his own heart loud in his ears and moved faster than he ever thought himself capable of. His face was inches away from Carl’s. The proximity wasn’t something he would ever have chosen, but in that moment, his rage was stronger than his need of space. What he needed was for Carl to understand what would happen if he would speak another word about Kit, ever again.

“Don’t talk to him like this”, his voice sounded stone cold, even to his ears, but he kept on regardless. “You have no reason to-“

“It’s not even his investigation! He’s not even supposed to know what we’re doing!”

Carl’s face was shining an ugly red that crept down to his neck, sprouting fiery angry blotches all over it.

“You’re right,” Ty said slowly, barely able to restrain himself from reaching for his weapon’s belt. He wasn’t a violent person, and his preferred way of fighting was tactical, with his knowledge and not with his fists, but he was a Shadowhunter, and the angel’s blood in his veins screamed of fierce protectiveness.

“It’s not Kit’s investigation. It’s not his responsibility at all, and yet, he’s the one that solved every piece of this case that we couldn’t. He helped us for days, even though he doesn’t even have to stay here. It’s not his duty and -“

“It’s his duty as a Shadow-“

“It’s not his duty to sit here and listen to your insults,” Ty’s voice rang loud and sharp, “He has done nothing to earn this treatment.”

Carl’s voice as he answered made him sound like a petulant child, “Well he’s an ass!”

Ty opened his mouth to protest but Kit was on him like a panther, lurking in the shadows, just waiting for an opportunity to strike.

“Oh is that right, Carl? Let’s talk about your increased interest in my ass, shall we? Personally I know a grate deal of the subject of bottoms.”

“I’m sure you do” Carl’s grunt was barely audible. Ty knew that Kit would never had teased him on the matter if he didn’t insult Ty like he did when they first met, though Carl’s discomfort was written plainly on his narrow face.

“Oh yes..” Kit went on, mercilessly, “Of many kinds”.

Thankfully, Adam rose to his feet and called in an authoritative voice, “As much as I’m truly fascinated by this conversation, if you plan on visiting the warlock, you must leave soon.”

Ty took a step back and felt Carl’s instant relief. Kit was already by the door, but Ty hesitated for a second before facing Carl once again.

He didn’t look at his face, he had no doubt that Carl would hear every word he had to say. He looked intently at his hands, trembling only slightly, but his voice was low and steady. “Remember what I said. Don’t talk to him like this, ever again.”

They walked in silence for what seemed like half an hour, but was probably only fifteen minutes. Usually, Kit would have felt uncomfortable, forced to fill the empty gaps with an idle chatter, but this was not the case. Not that it was a serine, pleasant walk. He was still angry, more angry than he felt for years.

He was lied to for all of his childhood, brought up to believe in secrets, trickery and in a life of self service. Everything had a price, and nothing should have been freely given.

But he went through quite a lot since those dark days in the basement of their Los Angeles home. Now he was loved by people that asked for nothing in return, and found that he was capable of loving them more fiercely than he ever thought was in him. They gave him the absolute truth, always. And being lied to again, being looked down at, being dismissed and used.. and from all people, by Ty.. made Kit feel like he was spiralling down into a dark place that he thought he had left behind.

But this morning, Ty didn’t act like he was looking down at him. As his stood, tall and swift like a sharpened arrow, he looked like he was ready to burn Carl Lindquist alive.

In those precious few moments, Kit managed to forget how hurt he was. Seeing Ty not only defending him, but actually threatening Carl, made him feel like he wasn’t so inconsequential to him as he thought. It also made him feel like he was punched in the chest with no warning.

He still wasn’t used to this older, sharper version of Ty.. and in that moment, no one had the right to look as beautiful as he did, like he was cut out of pure silver, soft and unyielding at the same time.

Kit eyed him sideways and regretted it immediately. He wanted to stay angry, to keep his mouth shut until they reach the goddamn warlock. But Ty looked so.. sad. Why was he sad? What gave him the right to look so frustrated? And Kit had no doubt this was the case, for Ty’s hands were dancing restlessly since they left the institute, and Kit had to clench his fist hard until his fingernails dug into his flesh. He wasn’t supposed to comfort Ty, though there was nothing in this world he wanted more.

The silence was merciless. It was tangible, pulsating between them until Kit had to break it before it broke him.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He said with what he hoped wasn’t too soft of a voice.

Ty lifted his gaze towards him and fixed it at some unknown point behind him.

“I didn’t have to do what?”

“You didn’t have to say say all these things to Carl. I can manage him by myself..” his lips twitched upwards.

“I’m aware of that..” An echo of a smile hovered on Ty’s mouth, and Kit had to look away. “I didn’t do it because I had to.”

“So why did you do it?” Kit heard the desperation in his voice and cursed himself again, why couldn’t he keep it cool for at least five minutes?

Ty kept silent for a long moment before he answered, very slowly, like it pained him to say the words allowed.

“Because I couldn’t help it.”

Kit felt the trembling of his heart like it was laid in the palm of his hand.

“I don’t mind it when he picks on me. I know why he’s doing it, and it’s his business. But, the way he talks to you.. like you’re- as if he’s even-“

Kit was baffled. He never heard Ty struggle with words like this, though he knew they didn’t came as easily to him as to others. They were an instrument to him, a necessity.

“I just.. don’t like it.”

Kit didn’t know how to answer, and Ty didn’t look like he was waiting for a response.

They turned left on Northampton Rd, their destination was only a few minutes away. The stone pavement was littered with glass shards, shining between the dirty tiles like scattered glitter. The remains of a life, Kit thought.

A blue street sign told them that they weren’t so far from a children’s hospital, and the image of the all the potential captives of the demons flashed before Kit’s eyes. He was so immersed in his feelings, in his own pity, insignificant pain, that he managed to forget the real reason they were here.

Kit signalled Ty to follow his lead, as they turned into a narrow street. Right next to a brightly coloured flower shop, stood an old green wooden door with the address Hypatia gave him. He took out his stele, and quickly traced an open rune. The door creaked open, and they slid inside quietly, hidden behind their glamour.

Kit and Ty climbed two floors before they found the right apartment, a plain looking door with a metal plaque with the letter M hanged in the centre of it. Kit gave Ty a quick glance, debating whether he should say something before he knocked, but thought better of it. He lifted his hand towards the door when Ty asked in a low voice, “Aren’t you going to tell me that I should let you do the talking?”

He gave Kit a hesitant, shy smile, and all the anger and anxiety he felt flew out of him in an instant.

“Do I have to?” He replied with a grin, and knocked on the door.

Apparently, Hypatia wasn’t exaggerating when she called the warlock Marvin “unpleasant”.

The second he opened the door and saw Kit and Ty, he tried to slam it right in their faces. Kit was quick, though, and shoved his foot in the small space between the door and it’s frame.

“Ouch! That’s how you great everybody, Marvin?”

“It’s reserved to you Shadowhunters. What do you want?” Marvin was a rather short, tired looking man. He wore a blood red fluffy robe and had a slight greenish tint to skin that matched his moss coloured eyes, and a deep hoarse voice. Overall, he didn’t look like any warlock Kit had ever seen, he looked like an ordinary man that had a couple of drinks too much last night.

“My name is Christopher Herondale and this is Tiberius Blackthorn. We came to ask you a few questions about a.. very delicate matter.” Kit lifted his eyebrows to emphasise the need of a private conversation.

The warlock gave him a long, measuring look. “Herondale, you say? Are you familiar with Magnus Bane?”

“Yeah!” Kit’s mood lifted. If this warlock was a friend of Magnus, maybe he’ll be more inclined to help them. “He’s family friend. Good friend. Of both of us.” He gestured at Ty.

After another moment of hesitation, the warlock opened the door and moved aside to let them in.

Kit looked around him in amazement. The apartment was enormous, much bigger than what he would have thought just by looking at the building. The light inside was warm and dimmed, as if the sun was long gone from the sky and only the excessive amount of candles lit the room. But that wasn’t what was extraordinary about the place. Every single wall across the entire apartment was covered with books. Kit had never seen such a thing in his entire life, and he lived with Tessa Grey. He suppressed the urge to take a picture, and turned to Ty.

“Are you seeing this, Ty?”

Ty’s face mirrored his own amazement, but he didn’t seem to see the space around him. Kit followed his gaze, to know what he was looking at, and felt his mouth open in surprise.

In front of them stood Marvin, with his fluffy robe and solemn expression, but where his hands should have been, were long, slimy green tentacles. They were covered with pink suckers down to their tips, that curled inward and nearly reached his knees.

Kit closed his mouth and gave Ty a worried look, the last thing they needed was to make the warlock feel uncomfortable or angry. Sure, Kit was surprised by the addition, but he was used to warlocks. He remembered once meeting a warlock who’s entire body was covered with sparkly purple gills, but Ty wasn’t as used to downworlders as he was.

He better start talking, before things got too awkward. “So, umm-“

“Your tentacles..” Ty whispered before he could finish his words. Oh no, Kit thought, and gave Ty a meaningful look that he didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes?” Marvin’s voice was icy cold and his tentacles opened menacingly, like a strand of hair, escaping its roller.

“They’re incredible!” Ty called. “How long do they reach? Their texture indicates that they’re regularly moistened, but is it so or are they naturally slick? I wrote a paper once about the variety of oceanic marks in warlocks, but this is by far the most interesting I’ve ever encountered.”

Kit and Marvin both stared at Ty with unabashed amazement for a few seconds before Marvin stuttered a response.

“Thank you, I.. think. I just use moisturiser. I have a fella in the market that makes me a jasmine scented cream. I can give you his number, if.. you want.”

Kit couldn’t believe what was happening. He was terrified that Ty would be repulsed by the warlock’s.. unusual appearance, and now they were exchanging body care notes and discussing the advantages of tentacles in a fight. He supposed he shouldn’t have been so surprised, and reminded himself of the days he spent in the shadow market with Ty. Everybody loved him, even before the cold peace was eradicated.

An overwhelming urge to put his arms around Ty punched his way into Kit’s heart, to hold him close, to feel the steady beat of his heart against his. To lose himself in his smell of ink, rain and clean cotton. But he couldn’t do that, even if he wasn’t in danger of bursting like a lightning storm. Ty didn’t want him that way. No matter how hopeful Kit felt by his warm behaviour in the last few days, Ty had proved him yesterday that there was little left between them. It wasn’t friendship, and definitely nothing more than that.

Eventually, Kit cleared his throat and reminded the two that they came here for an important reason, not a courtesy call.

As they spoke of the demon appearances and their suspicions about the missing children, Marvin’s eyes darkened and his lips compressed themselves into a thin line.

“I admit that this is worst than what I imagined. I’ve heard things.. not many downworld residents will speak of it, but I have my way of learning things. I heard that the moloch demons are searching to strengthen their master, so he will be able to take hold of this world. If what you’re saying is correct, the ritual of sacrifice might be exactly the way they’re planning to do it.”

“So when we found them in that warehouse..” Ty started in a shaken voice.

“They were looking for a place to preform the ritual, and hide the kids.” Kit completed, his fingers pressing hard over the knuckles, threatening to pop the bones out of their place.

“In the map we made, where we traced the demons appearances with the locations of kidnap, the warehouse was near one of the places where three kids were taken. That means they’re staying close to where they were seen last.”

Ty spoke slowly, as if he was seeing and interpreting the map right before his eyes. “Now all we have to do is look in that area for a potential place of hiding for them.”

“Yes,” Kit whispered. “A place that has an underground entrance.”

Ty sat on the floor to the foot of his bed, his hands planted deep in the soft maze of Irene’s fur. She was sprawled on his lap, her eyes following Livvy as she floated around the room.

“So you found the place? You know where they are?”

Her voice quivered with excitement and worry. Ty knew that she, like him, couldn’t help but remember the day their brother Tavvy was taken by Malcolm Fade. He tried to cast away the memories, Tavvy’s small body slack on the stone table, Malcolm’s army of the dead.

He shook his head and turned to his sister.

“We have a couple of potential locations that fits the profile we’re looking for. We can’t go during the night, because the demons can follow us outside. It’s safer to do this during the day.”

She nodded, her expression clouded, as if her mere existence was hiding away a secret.

“Is.. Kit coming with you?” She asked with that voice of hers she used whenever she was about to touch a subject Ty was less than inclined to discuss.

“I don’t know.. I hope he will. I think he’s still angry with me. I planned to apologise but I was so angry when we left the institute, because of Carl and because I couldn’t stop him before he said more hurtful things to Kit.. I just couldn’t find the right words. And when we left Marvin’s apartment we got so caught up in the investigation.”

“But when you came back? He’s still here, right?”

Ty pressed his cheek to Irene’s back and listened to her peculiar heartbeat. It grounded his mind to a single thought, to a single purpose.

“He’s here. As soon as Carl entered the room he left, but I heard him in the training room earlier.”

Livvy floated closer to him, something she didn’t usually do when Irene was so close, because it made her jumpy.

“Ty, you should go talk to him. You should apologise. Tomorrow you’re going to face the angel knows how many demons. You should do this.. before.”

Ty considered her words. In the next day they were headed towards danger, something that never frightened Ty. He was a Shadowhunter - danger was their closest companion, even in the Scholomance. But if Kit will come with them still thinking Ty didn’t trust him, it could seriously compromise them as a team, and therefore put Kit in danger.

He picked up his phone and checked for the time. It was late, and Kit was probably already asleep.. but it wouldn’t be the first time Ty had woke him up.

He gently lifted Irene off him, and placed her on the makeshift bed he had made for her when she arrived a few days ago.

With a witchlight in his hand, Ty walked the narrow corridor that led to Kit’s room.

Ty hesitated a second before he opened the door, but the thought of seeing Kit again filled his body with an excitement that wiped away the fear of his reaction. He pulled the handle down, and thanked for the soundless rune he put on the soles of his boots.

In the far corner of the dark room, lay Kit. Half covered with a heavy white blanket, his bare back facing Ty.

Ty felt the breath abandon his body completely. He never saw Kit like this, not now and not when they were younger.

He remembered the day he got injured, the day they met again, and Jem’s steady hands searching his body for hidden injuries. He remembered how completely shell shocked from desire he was by the mere sight of Kit’s feverish, exposed skin.

He fell to his knees in front of Kit’s bed without having any control over his body. The need to touch him was overwhelming, to trace the hard muscles of his back with the tips of his fingers, to study the curves and hollows of his bones all over the desert of his skin, to name each birthmark with his lips.

Ty shuddered violently and told himself, commanded himself not to do anything to scare Kit away.

“Kit,” his voice was an inaudible whisper. “Kit, wake up”.

Kit didn’t stir, not even a slight movement.

Ty lifted a trembling hand and shook Kit’s shoulder, “Kit, wake u-“

And with a flash of silvery light he barely had time to see, Ty was lifted off his knees and slammed hard onto the bed.

Kit’s fist held the front of Ty’s shirt, pinning him to the bed, and his other hand held a dagger to his neck. The Herondale dagger.

He was on top of Ty, his entire body pressing down on him, and Ty felt him, each part of him, with a frantic voice screaming in his head that he must remember this, every second of this moment, every part of the way Kit’s skin felt against his.

His eyes, midnight blue and darker than Ty had ever seen them, focused with a visible effort on his. He didn’t say a word, and Ty barely managed to notice how hard he was breathing, like he woke up from a nightmare but wasn’t sure if he was still asleep.

Ty couldn’t speak. Kit’s face was a blaze of golden white in the pale moonlight, he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The sweet scent of his breath on his made him feel dizzy, and for a second, he wasn’t sure he was actually there, or still on the foot of his own bed.

“Christoper,” He whispered, his voice hoarse and thick. “I-“

And his lips were on his, hard and hot like a burst of flames erupting from stone.

He kissed him with a violent desperation, like he was on the verge of death and could find air only in-between their lips, like every drop of water that ever existed was to be found when their tongues met, melting his body into the stormy sea of a lost world.

Every place Kit’s lips touched made Ty burn, and they touched him everywhere. His jaw, his neck, the deep hollow above his sternum. He was burning like he never touched before. Every kiss he ever had, every place his body was touched until now was nothing but shadows, outlines of a desire he never knew existed.

His fingers grazed Kit’s naked back, touching all the places he yearned to touch before, tasting the velvety skin in the nape of his neck and the soft curls of his hair felt like feathers in his hands.

Kit’s lips found his again, and Ty could feel the need in him, the hunger. He bit his lower lip and Ty let out a low, breathless moan.

And with another flash of light, Kit was gone.

Ty felt like something was ripped away from him, an essential part of his body. He nearly screamed in pain when he saw Kit hunched in the corner of the bed. His back was trembling like he was stranded naked in the coldest of nights.

His thoughts sharpened slightly by the absence of Kit’s touch, Ty sat slowly, not touching him.

“What- what’s wrong?”

He heard his own voice like it was a stranger’s. There was nothing familiar about it, nothing reassuring, nothing to hold on to.

Kit didn’t answer, and Ty feared that he was crying. But why? Why would he be crying?

Ty’s blood sang in his veins, the strength of his emotions nearly knocking him back on his back.

He wanted to wrap his arms around Kit, to kiss the softness under his eyes, to press his hands against his heart and tell him, he wanted to tell him that-

“Leave.”

Kit’s pleading voice was barely a whisper, and Ty wished he only had imagined it.

“Please, Ty.. please. Leave.”

180 notes · View notes