#*update* HE DOES SMILE!!!and now i have proofs(i just need to get the photos) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

b1rds3ye · 1 year ago

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Mask On

How the boys react to their new ally who is more adamant on wearing their mask than Ghost himself.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except shorter than Ghost)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.1 (~0.8 each)

Warning: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Reader potentially having insecurities, Not Proof Read

A/N: You know what maybe I want to be the badass masked character 😤

Captain John Price

The captain is thorough, and he immediately knew something was up when he looked up your file only to be greeted with no photo. He’s honestly a little peeved that his rank doesn’t grant him this confidential information, he’s known Simon before he took up the mask so this is the first time he’s genuinely had a faceless ally

But ultimately, as long as he can trust that you’ll be following orders, he doesn’t care if you have a mask or not. But his concern is only that for a fellow soldier

It takes a little longer for him to warm up to you - facial expressions tell a lot about someone’s character. He’s a bit prickly around you, he learns about you indirectly with how you interact with the rest of the 141

But over time there’s a shift. He can’t pinpoint when exactly but the sight of your mask relaxes him. After days separated on a mission, high stakes and adrenaline has Price snapping his head at the faintest of foreign sounds. But upon the familiar sight of your signature mask, he feels at ease

Price is fiercely protective of you and your mask. He likens it to his hat, only far more important - that mask is part of your identity and he knows just how important a soldier’s psyche is. If the enemy manages to take off your mask, he’ll stop at nothing to get it back on your behalf, even if you reluctantly tell him to abandon it

If he can’t salvage your mask, Price has now made it a habit to carry a balaclava for you in one of his pockets. If that’s not available, he’ll even offer you his hat, tipping it down far enough to obscure your eyes

Off duty he finds himself staring at your visage more these days. Looking at how the mask curves over your features, or the small slivers of skin that reveal themselves. He catches himself before you notice but he’s still disappointed in himself, he feels like a Victorian-era prude hyperventilating at the sight of an ankle

“Looking fresh, sergeant.”

You let out an audible chortle at Price’s words. The last mission was a success but at great costs, one of them being your mask damaged beyond repair during melee combat. Your face still wasn’t revealed, but slashes against fabric embedded with dirt and ash have made your signature mask look unrecognisable. Immediately upon returning to base and after debriefing, you were out of commission until you could don a new mask.

Price would be lying if said he didn’t miss your presence for the last few days, hiding away from the rest of the soldiers in base. He has no doubt you’ve still maintained your training and visiting the infirmary for mandatory checkups, but he’s gotten far too used to you being at his beck and call. The famed sight of your mask is no longer in his periphery, giving a nod of approval (not that he ever needed your approval, but he does enjoy your attention).

And now here you are with a new mask, the highlights glowing under the overhead lights and the darks swallowing up the lightwaves like an animal starved. Your updated look had you noticeably confident, shoulders square and head tall.

“Thanks, Captain.”

He can hear your smile and he ends up sitting next to you. Did he need to sit so close? No, but he acts as though his thigh brushing against yours was pure coincidence.

“What are you going to do with the old one?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, giving a light pat to a pocket in your cargo pants that your past mask currently resides in. “I know there’s a lot of memories in this… it’s my first mask… but I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’ll keep it.”

You look at him. Price now has the uncanny ability to read your mood purely through your body language. From the speed at which you turn your head, the inclination of the neck, how your shoulders slant, he’s surprised that such a vicious soldier can act so endearingly in these moments.

“For what?”

“Safekeeping,” he says simply. “I’m proud of my soldiers, sergeant - want to remember their accomplishments.”

You shrug in agreement and fish your mask out of your pocket. You don’t need to know how much Price truly values you, how having your mask will be like having a part of you by his side to motivate him when he’s working alone.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You’ve got a mask? Cool, so does he. Simon really doesn’t care when he first met you. He offers a simple nod of acknowledgement to you and then it’s all mission talk. If anything, the mask makes him respect you more, like him it’s always the masked ones who’ve seen shit and can get shit done

Even before you two became friends, you two were often paired together for operations. Perhaps it was just assumed the two masked people were on the same wavelength and to be fair, they were right. It didn’t take long for Ghost to admire your prowess on the battlefield

However as the two of you start to get closer, Simon gets a bit of a eureka moment. So this is how all his allies feel when trying to get along with a masked figure, unable to see any of their expressions. Oh how the tables have turned. It’s not daunting for him, more just amusing

He knows the struggles of having a mask so he helps out where he can. He reminds you if it’s been some time since you last washed your mask (advice he does not follow himself) and he’ll offer you some of his obsidian powder he uses to obscure any uncovered patches of skin

Price often has the two of you accompany him for interrogations, he calls it “mask pressure”. There’s nothing more terrifying to a target than having two imposing faceless figures standing on either side of them, unreadable and unpredictable

It’s clear you don’t want to show your face to anyone and Simon doesn’t question it. His natural curiosity is not worth your discomfort and he makes that abundantly clear. If on the rare occasion you catch him without a mask, he’ll sometimes put it back on so that you don’t have to be the only one with their face covered

If your mask is ever compromised, Simon covers you with his hulking figure. No one dares get on the bad side of Ghost who shoots the most terrifying glares towards anyone looking in his - and consequently your - way. He stands in front of you, back rigid and shoulders square, his posture only slacking if he feels you hold onto his back, seeking comfort

A few weeks ago, when left in a briefing, you finally noticed Simon was staring at you from across the room. He had been staring for a good while now, but you - ever the diligent soldier - were distracted discussing tactics with a corporal. So there he was, standing and observing in the corner of the room - his “observing” being drinking the sight of you. And that was when he noticed, among all the glory that was you, that your mask was slightly off alignment. Cue his eyes being trained on your head for you to get the idea that something was wrong.

When your head stayed still - probably challenging his gaze - he tried to change tactics. He added the occasional upward jerk of the head - miming an attempt to shake the mask back in place - but your head only tilted in confusion. You still could not figure out what he was doing.

Eventually he gave up and walked up to you. He lifted a tentative hand, silently asking for permission and you nodded. He pinched at the fabric on the side of your face.

“Your mask’s slippin’,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t the end of the world, only a small adjustment that only someone as observant as him could notice. Still, he felt satisfied at your heavy exhale, you must’ve noticed it’s a little easier to breathe with everything in alignment now.

“Thanks.”

Today, Simon finds your gaze trained on him, head following whenever he moves across the room. You used to stare when you first met, you probably found him intimidating and he doesn’t blame you. He thought you’d be over that though, you two were closer than that. At least he hoped.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He eventually asks and that spurs you into action.

Standing in front of him, you reach up, your hand grabbing the top half of the skull that overlays his balaclava. Your thumb lightly hooks into the skull’s eye socket - a little close to Simon’s actual eye but he trusts you. He feels you tug upwards, and Simon now realises that the skull had been sinking down his face, the peripheral around his brow no longer obscured. He’ll need to reapply the glue for the mask later.

“We really need a hand sign for this,” you mutter.

And so you two make one. It’s discreet, a closed fist with a thumb poking out, dragged from the jawline up to the hairline. The rest of the 141 just look at the two of you in confusion whenever you use it though, your little secret.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny’s generally a good judge of character. Although it’s a little uncanny being unable to see your features, he’s used to it because of Simon. One conversation is all he needs to reach a conclusion as to what type of person you are and now he treats you as if you’re good friends

Yes, he is curious about what you look like under the mask. He used to make comments about it occasionally until he caught you on a bad day

“C’mon Sarge, just a peek.” “Not happening, Johnny.” “What, you ugly?” “… that’s not for you to speculate, MacTavish.” “Shit, sorry. I- I’d never think that of you, or care. I know you’re a looker.”

And Johnny stands by his statement. Even if he’s never seen your face he quickly developed a little crush on you. How you conduct yourself in battle has him watching you with stars in his eyes and he just knows you’ll take his breath away if you ever show your face

When Johnny’s bored, he likes doodling your mask and potential alternative designs in his journal which he’ll show you sometimes. He’s not an artist but he gets the idea across. He’s created a “happy” design, an “angry” one, and the “when I see Soap” design which is just your standard mask with a whole lot of shoddily drawn love hearts on it (you haven't seen that design yet)

He’s genuinely surprised at how determined you are at keeping your mask on in all circumstances - you’re worse than Simon at this point - but he’ll never ask because he doesn’t want to potentially open up old wounds. Despite his curiosity for what you could look like, Johnny will never invade your privacy and ensures no one else does either. If you’re in your room he’ll knock once, twice, thrice, until he’s absolutely sure you’re ready for him to enter

If something goes wrong and your mask falls off he’s looking away and shoving everyone else to look away as well. He’s like a guard dog, shouting and name-shaming anyone who dares look in your direction. No one except other members of the 141 will be able to approach you until you’re covered

Was it smart to have you and Soap - combined to be the most disruptive and obnoxious soldiers on the field - alone to handle a stealth mission that was off the books? No, but you sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint Price or Laswell. The objective was clear and the rules of engagement were even clearer; under no circumstance can the enemy know you’re from 141.

“We’re gonna need to cover our faces,” Johnny mutters absentmindedly beside you. You pull your binoculars down to send him an incredulous look and he chuckles. “I need to cover my face.”

“You got a mask?”

There’s a pause and Johnny’s looking at you, eyes glinting in that familiar mischief. That was never good news.

“You bet.”

You offer a tentative nod of encouragement before lifting your binoculars back up to observe the target site. You hear the repeated shuffles of fabric against fabric and clothes sliding against skin. It’s prolonged, you swear it’s enough time for Johnny to change his entire uniform. His breaths become muted, mouth now covered until it eventually falls to complete silence. It’s unnerving, the designated demolitions expert is not known for his silence, and you have to look back at him yet again.

Of course you expected Johnny to be wearing a mask, but it was the mask itself that took you by surprise.

“Is that… mine?”

“Was yours.”

You squint and somewhere in the depths of your mind, you vaguely recall Soap asking if he could have one of your spare masks back at the base. You humoured him, and said your wardrobe was his.

That was your first mistake.

You figured he was just going to take the piss, wear your mask to scare some privates around the base. You didn’t think he’d actually wear it on a mission. It was unexpected, but it felt like an honour. How he was so willing to identify with you in some of the most dangerous of situations.

But your silence has Johnny getting fidgety. He’s already reaching up to pull the mask off.

“I have a normal balaclava. If you don’t like this I can-”

“Wear it.”

You can’t see Johnny’s face but you see him pull his head back in surprise. Then he smiles, one so wide, expanding his cheeks you can see it stretch your mask. In that moment you’re glad your mask obscures your features as you feel yourself grin at his own joy.

“We’re a team, aye?”

“You bet.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle’s may be close to Simon but he's not entirely used to masked allies. When you first arrived he shot Captain Price a cautious look, a silent conversation between them finished by Price’s definitive nod. Eventually he relents and puts up with you

Subconsciously, without seeing your face he ends up reducing you to a weapon. He respects you like a soldier, a robot. His language is restrained, only issuing orders and you recite them back

It’s only when another soldier cracks a joke on the mission and you laugh does it flick a switch in Kyle’s mind. You weren’t all orders, you weren’t a machine, you were a human (with a damn nice voice might he add). He feels terrible for reducing you to a tool simply because he can’t see your face but he’ll make up for it now

He becomes a bit of a menace in the sparse quiet moments of a mission. He makes the occasional one liner about how you wear the mask so others aren’t distracted by your good looks, but then changes the topic so quickly you’re not even sure he said it

Yes, Kyle’s a little obsessed with your voice. He can’t see you and he doesn’t have the experience like Price or Simon to read body language accurately. Instead, he can read your mood near perfectly with the inflections in your voice (which is arguably more impressive). While he doesn’t want you to ever be upset or angry, sometimes how you taunt the enemy has a shiver running down his spine

Because your mouth is blocked by a mask, many allies don’t offer you food or drinks. Not Kyle though, if he’s grabbed refreshments, he always ensures he has extra for you. At first he just gives them to you and then leaves. But when you said it was okay for him to stay - trusting him enough to just look away when you lift you mask - Kyle’s heart soared

If anything happens to reveal your face, Kyle is immediately by your side. He pulls you close to provide comfort, while also guiding your head into his neck or shoulder to block anyone from seeing you. Another member of the 141 will find a solution to cover your face, you are Kyle’s first priority and he’ll gladly hold you all day

After a long mission, you and Kyle are finally safe upon reaching exfil. Sitting on a helicopter Kyle slumps against his seat, and you do the same beside him. Although he could finally relax, he feels absolutely filthy, swamped in his own sweat under multiple layers. Dirt and mud caked his boots and crept all the way up to his thighs. Some even sneaked up into under his tactical vest.

He spares a look and sometimes he thinks you can’t possibly be human. The heat is suffocating enough without a mask, Kyle has long forgone his signature cap to let his head breathe. If your body language was any indicator, you weren’t handling the sweltering heat of the helicopter engine or Al Mazrah’s temperament. Your chest notably heaving under the weight of your tactical gear, breaths so laboured it sent the fabric around your mouth pulling and billowing with each inhale and exhale.

There isn’t much Kyle can do for comfort, but he tries. He shifts a little closer to you. Your head shifts to look at him, the movement was far too slow, like your head was too heavy and his heart tugs a little.

With one hand, Kyle gently tilts your face up to him. With the other he lightly pinches the fabric of your mask at the junction between your jawline and ear. Teasing it between his fingers, when he pulls his hand away there’s gunk on his fingertips. Dust, dirt and as he squints at your mask he realises that some of the stains are likely the dried blood of an unidentified enemy.

The hand he’s resting on your chin is about to pull away until he notices how you’re resting your head on it. He can’t see your face but he has no doubt that your eyes are near shut, almost drifting off to dreamland. He occupies himself by gently brushing away loose debris off your mask which has you relaxing further into his touch.

“We gotta wash this,” he murmurs defeatedly.

“... yeah, we do,” you grumble, voice thick with fatigue. Kyle does not stop his ministrations - even pulling some fluff off of the cotton of your mask. It does little to actually clean your mask - at this rate it’s going to need pure bleach to clean it - but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you trust him this much, leaning into his touch, entrusting him to be the respite from your mission.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #/*avery actually writes*/#/*cod x masked reader*/

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smooth-perceval · 1 year ago

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“My love, my life.”

“It’s okay- it was nothing important anyways.”

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

PART THREE

Max Corner

Summary: [Max and reader crossed the line in their 3 year friendship, resulting in 2 positive pregnancy test. And 1 baby on the way.]

Max runs once again, leaving you questioning his true intentions. It wasn’t until Lando invited you along to Silverstone, home GP, you finally understand what’s going on.

Warnings: swearing, angst, Max being a dick, Max&Kelly together, fake relationship, mentions of J.Verstappen, Google translate, no proof read, my bad writing.

Key: Y/N (your name) Y/L/N (Your last name)

Word count: 3,256

A/N: So I put ‘Max&Kelly’ as a warning, not because I dislike any present or previous wags, it’s just like a pre warning that Max is not ‘solo’ I suppose- it’s just there so we’re not shocked when it happens. 🌝 Hope you enjoy 👀 let’s pretend the photo of Lissie is us 🙂

Well once again Max went awol… and I was finally washing my hands with him, the hot and cold, cat and mouse it wasn’t going to end well- it never does.

He won the Canadian GP, and out of pure kindness I sent him a congratulations message… only for it to be seen and not responded to.

That’s when I knew Max was only down for one thing- and every word he said was pure bullshit.

Lando kept me updated on everything happening around the paddock, a few times mentioning Max, sure I wanted to know how he was… what he was up to… why has he just left so much stuff unsaid… why the fuck is he leaving me in the dark- but instead of asking- I would simply type back a short message, or a little smile and nod of my head…

“Landiniho 🏎️”

I’m gonna ft in 5 x

Sending a quick reply, I held my phone nearby grabbing the tv remote and turning the volume down.

Within less that 5 minutes Lando was calling. And just as quickly I answered, both smiling wide at each other.

“Hey, what are you doing next week?”

“Hello to you to Lan-” laughing a little I then shrugged my shoulders picking at the cushion next to me. “Nothing planned- except watching your home race.” Smiling a little I side eyed him. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Quickly waving me off, I then noticed the background of where he was- he wasn’t even in his hotel room but sitting in the lobby.

“How about you come with me to Silverstone?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, before laughing a little.

“Come back home…?” Humming I titled my head- it seemed quite a simple answer… I could see my parents, visit some friends… and I can be with company instead of alone at home.

“Yeah, back home!” He sat up straight already knowing my answer.

“Okay, you’ll come with me to my parents right?…” he nodded his head quickly.

“I haven’t seen them in ages… so your gonna definitely come?”

“Yes, I suppose soooo…” rolling my eyes playfully with a smile.

“Okay good! I’ll sort everything out just get packed cause I kinda need to fly you out like tomorrow…” nodding my head slowly, “I’ll have to bring all my work stuff Lan- laptop the lot…” mumbling I start shuffling some paperwork together.

“That’s fine- just get pac- yeah?” He turned away from the camera looking over at someone else.

“Yeah- she is coming to Silverstone…” furrowing my eyebrows my eyes darted around the screen to try and see who his talking to.

“No. Call her yourself.” Lando moved his phone now I was looking over his shoulder at the seat behind him.

“No.”

“Lan- what’s going on.” Quickly moving the phone back to his face.

“I’ll text you the details- I’ve gotta go… Max fuck of-” the call ended, leaving me sitting there confused and in shock.

Lando was right he can call me himself… why wouldn’t he just pick up his own phone and dial my number… dickhead.

Shaking my head I tossed my phone aside going upstairs to start packing, I packed enough for a week, hoping to spend enough time with family, and packing a separate bag for all my work stuff. The perks of working from home!

Within the hour Lando sent me all the details over telling me he will meet me at the airport, him only arriving around 30 minutes before me.

When laying in bed I could only think what Max had wanted… why was he trying to take Lando’s phone, why couldn’t he just call me himself or even text… I tossed and turned before finally rocking myself to sleep. I guess I’ll soon find out.

** 6:15 A.M **

The sound of my alarm cracked through my dreams pulling me back to reality, my eyes slowly opening and adjusting to the light creeping in my room.

Switching the alarm off I slowly climbed out of my bed getting ready for the airport. I should’ve gone to bed earlier… my body ached- and I felt my stomach churn, making quick effort to go down and get my anti-sickness tablets taking one and stuffing the rest in my carry on.

Anti-sickness tablets are like my breakfast at the moment… the first thing I take when I wake up. It’s now somewhat a routine, this baby is really doing it’s number on me, if I wasn’t tired all the time and being sick, I was angry or crying…

Now I’m sitting at roughly 8 or 9 weeks, a few more weeks and I get to see the baby again- and I cannot wait. It’s crazy to think what a woman’s body is capable of doing-

I was away with the fairy’s while walking through the airport, checking my suitcases e.t.c, e.t.c. I could only imagine what it will be like when I’m home with my parents, seeing Lando again, old friends… hopefully Max.

Just to know what went on- what I did wrong to make him ignore me like he has… just curious.

When on the plane I got some extra sleep, not that I could help it. Like I said I am exhausted all the time… I dozed off as soon as I put my seatbelt on, missing the takeoff and only woke up just before landing. And even now I could just shut my eyes again…

Widening my eyes forcing them awake, I rubbed my face looking out the window.

Back in England, it was summertime here… and it was lovely.

As soon as I left the plane I felt the sun kiss my cheeks.

Perfect.

I sent Lando a message saying I had landed and asking where to meet him, but as soon as I looked up from my phone he was already waiting there at the gate. Cap pulled down, sunglasses on, and even in this weather a hoodie pulled right up to try and cover as much of his face as possible.

Smiling a little I rushed over to him arms open wide forgetting my suitcases and bags behind me as they cluttered to the floor.

“Back home babbyyy!” Gripping him tightly, he let out a laugh practically throwing us side to side, before resting me back onto my feet.

“Welcome home.” He smiled once again, and as if we was little kids we both started jumping on the spot, falling back into a tight embrace “oh I’ve missed it.” Pulling away I ran over collecting my items, following Lando out the airport.

The whole time telling him all the new things I’ve discovered with the pregnancy. Like morning sickness really isn’t just ‘morning sickness.’ Well I mean I new that weeks ago… but still. It should be called any time of the day sickness.

Lando chipped in asking little questions here and there, before the big question landed.

“What’s Max been like with it all? Has he been encouraging?” Nudging me with a slight tease in his voice. But it only cause my smile to drop slowly.

“I haven’t heard from him…” Lando spun around from facing the car staring at me. “You haven’t? Didn’t you guys sort it all a few weeks ago?” I started chewing at my bottom lip nervously, quickly thanking one of the airport staff for putting my bags in the car.

“Sort of…” I wiped my hands on myself, clearing my throat and climbing into the car. Ignoring the stare off Lando.

“Sort of?” As if he knew the answer he shook his head.

“So you went back to square one.”

“Lan I don’t need the lecture. It was my own fault this time.” Sighing I rubbed my temple leaning my head against the window.

“I’m not… okay, sorry. I’m sorry.” Touching my arm gently I turned looking at him, before he pulled me into a hug. “It’s gonna be alright you know.” I only responded with a slightly nod of my head. “Just wish he would want this as much as I do… but I can’t force him…”

Rubbing my back gently he pulled away with a reassuring smile. “His just an odd guy, I’m sure his just worried okay… but you can do this.”

Pausing for a moment “Y/N and uncle Lando right?”

Laughing a little I nod my head. “Yes, yes unless I give the rights to Charles”

Lando let out a fake gasp before leaning back in his seat. “Don’t ever threaten my uncle rights again.” Smiling to myself I looked back out the window. The driver slowly pulling away.

Lando slept most of the journey- and sure I was a little nosey when his phone kept going off… side eyeing it, I see Max blowing his phone up… and I could only wish it was mine- even at the sight of his name, I felt tingles all over my body. Like his touched had once burned on me.

Sighing at myself, I shuffled closer to Lando resting my head against his shoulder. Slowly closing my eyes and letting my worries got with it.

My worries being facing Max.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N-” repeatedly with each time he said my name Lando poked my forehead.

Flinching slightly when he poked again I sat up slowly rubbing my eyes.

“Your so fucking annoying…” my voice was hoarse and barely audible from the sleep.

“We’re here!” Smiling excitedly he climbs out the car quickly, first thought was him going over to fans and taking photos.

Sighing once again I make sure I looked like hadn’t just woken up- before climbing out behind him, I start helping getting out bags out, when Lando comes over quickly grabbing both the heavy suitcases.

“You can’t lift heavy things remember-”

Rolling my eyes and smiling, I pull the handle of my suitcases up and roll into the hotel, giving a few small waves to shouting fans of Lando’s.

Finally getting up to my room, Lando only a few doors down. I flopped onto the bed letting out a happy groan, from my aching body.

Pulling my phone out I read some messages, before going into insta and putting a post up.

@YOURINSTAGRAMNAME.

Liked by landonorris and 244,873 others

@YOURINSTAGRAMNAME. -

Sky was painted for you Landiniho 🧡

Comments have been turned off.

And finally I was able to relax, I planned on visiting my parents after Sundays race, as everything leading up to then is crazy- and I didn’t want to drag Lando down to them while the weekend commenced.

It wasn’t long before Lando was knocking the door and demanding I opened it.

“What?” Annoyed I glared at him the door nearly hitting the wall as I pulled it open.

“I’m hungry, let’s go eat-” if he wasn’t offering food I probably would have strangled him… however he did, so he dodge a bullet.

In silence I grabbed my room key, phone, and other necessities before following Lando down to the elevator. “Can we go to the lovely restaurant down the road?” Looking over at Lando excitedly, smiling he nodded his head pressing for the ground floor. And as if on cue my belly started to grumble. Which only made us both burst into laughter.

Dinner was lovely, me and Lan spent the evening joking around and just enjoying company of one another- it washed away all my nerves, and I finally felt at ease being back home.

With arms linked we took a slow walk back to the hotel, and just for once I felt like the world seemed to get off my shoulders.

“Don’t you ever think to move back home? And raise the baby here?”

I come to an abrupt stop before continuing to walk with him- like I was reseted. “I never thought of it…” mumbling quietly to him I rest my head against his arm. “Monaco is my home too-”

“But- I mean this in the nicest way…”

Stopping himself he turns looking down at me. “You have nobody in Monaco.”

And there it was, the weight of the world again, I know he means well but it was sure a kick in the gut when he said it…

“I have you?”

“I’m not always there-”

“I’m fine, by myself.”

“But what about if you ever need anyone? What about when you go into labour?” Lando started walking again arm slung over my shoulders.

“I do have some friends there.”

“Friends that you can trust with your baby?”

Humming, I look down at the floor as we walk, he had a point… who am I trying to kid- I wouldn’t trust anyone but him or family with my baby… let alone some friends I see once in a blue moon.

“Maybe it’s something to think about…” sighing I then look up at the stars in the sky, questioning which person I have pissed off to cause this much chaos in my life.

“I just want you to be happy Y/N” he gestured for me to go into the lobby first before following behind. “That’s all I ever want for you.” Smiling over my shoulder at him j waisted for him to walk next to me before bumping shoulders.

“As do I, you deserve the world Lan.”

We finally separated at our doors, Lando disappearing down the hall once I was in my room- I took a shower and got into bed ready for this weekend and what it’s to bring, because I got myself a friend called Lando, and with Lando I felt okay.

**FRIDAY FREE PRACTICE**

I was panicking, I could potentially bump into Max today- and the way my hormones are going I’d probably end up crying if I even catch a glance of him…

Staring at myself in the mirror, I smoothed out my orange shorts, tilting my head before turning to the side. Shaking my head smiling to myself- I leave the bathroom grabbing my bag, phone, room key- and whatever else I thought may come in handy.

Agreeing to meet Lando in reception, I made my way out to the elevator trying to be as quiet as possible- seeing as how early it was in the morning.

Humming quietly to myself I waited for the elevator to arrive. Swaying slightly to my own song in my head-

“Oh hi-” glancing over my shoulder there he was.

In all his glory- Max.

And weirdly enough I felt nothing… I felt no anger, no sadness, no happiness. Nothing for him right now. So with a tight lipped smile, I whispered a hello before turning back to the elevator.

“I’ve er- I’ve wanted to talk to you…” he stepped forward standing next to me, at a distance that screams more than friendship-

“Oh really? What about?” Biting my lip praying the elevator arrives sooner rather that later.

“It’s more of a private matter…” looking around as if he was nervous of getting caught- which only caused me to look around also.

“Well, I’m sure it was nothing important otherwise you would’ve-” my voice soon trailed off and my mouth just went slack. Behind Max slowly walking towards us was her… and just like that a fire ignited within me.

My eyes had the same fire burning in them as I glared back at Max, who’s colour was slowly draining from his face. “Never mind I can see now you’ve been occupied.” Looking back over at Kelly, who only had a lovely smile on her face as she linked her arm with Max.

The elevator pinged, breaking the silence- moving myself forward to step in I look over at max and Kelly before taking a large step back.

“You both take this one- I just realised I’ve lost something…” tapping over myself, trying to seem like I was genuine. Kelly only smiled once more before stepping in.

“You need help finding it?” Kelly looked around the elevator floor, as Max stood outside- eyes still glued onto me.

Looking over at her I offered her a smile and shake of my head- then turning to look at Max. Eyes fixated onto each other.

“It’s okay- it was nothing important anyways.” I felt my lip tremble slightly, quickly biting down on it and rushing away with my head down.

Clearly he found his distraction… and was it weird that I wanted it to be me?

Rushing to the stairs I raced down praying I would beat the elevator.

Out of breath and panting I ran over to Lando in reception grabbing his arm and dragging him to the exit.

“Y/N slow down-” laughing a little Lando pulled back- which only made me tug harder at his arms-

The elevator ping sounded through reception- my eyes focused on the doors as Max hurriedly stepped out leaving Kelly behind.

“Please Lando can we just g-”

“Y/N I need to talk to you.” As if in sync me and Lando both looking over at max, who was practically jogging through reception.

“I have nothing to say to you.” Giving up with Lando I hurriedly walked away towards the exit. Why did it hurt so much that he was with Kelly?

Because there’s no way you kiss someone the way he kisses me and it not mean anything- yet being with found with another woman probably giving her the same bullshit excuses… was a kick to the gut.

I knew he was chasing me- even if he was a few feet behind I felt his presence- the hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. My heart was telling me to stop running from him and let him talk. But my head told me to keep going- and I did.

I got into the car that was waiting on me and Lando locking the door behind me and leaning over locking the drivers side.

Until he finally gave up. Well I say gave up Lando practically forced him away. And once he was out of sight I finally opened the door again for Lando.

“Can we not talk about him.” Looking at the dash in front of me. I felt sick, maybe even numb at this point. We spent two unforgettable nights with one another, his been one of my closest friends for years- maybe a warning would’ve been nice that it didn’t mean as much to him as it did me- then I wouldn’t of had my flame of hope burned out- and reigniting with anger and jealousy.

I hate her- I hate that he chose her, what was so wrong about me? Why doesn’t he want me the same way I want him? I can’t force him to love me- so why am I so worked up over something so stupid?

“Let’s get the race weekend started aye?” Looking over at Lando he offered an encouraging smile- hand reaching over snd squeezing mine.

Lando is like a comfort blanket- or a teddy bear, you know the type you get when your young and you find yourself seeking it out every single night and day for solitary comfort. Lando was my teddy bear.

“Let’s go get you your win.” Squeezing his hand back I smiled up at him- sure the smile didn’t reach my eyes- and my eyes they didn’t twinkle like diamonds- but he knew I meant what I said and he knew I was there supporting him no matter what.

And Max? Pft what’s the point of crying over something that wasn’t even mine in the first place.

A/N: Soooooo I don’t know- it was long awaited that’s for sure I just had terrible writers block- and you can even tell in some parts I wasn’t giving enough- buttttt on with the next chapter.

FYI MAX REDEEMS HIMSELF.

Masterlist

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #max verstappen imagine #imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max Verstappen!dad x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen

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anime-rambles · 3 years ago

Text

"OMEGA STOP PART 1"

Pairing: Alpha Bakugou x Alpha Kirishima x Omega Reader

Type: ABO Dynamic, Angst, blood, SFW

Word Count: 2900+

A/N: Seeing how everyone is loving “Welcome Home Omega” I decided to do another omegaverse fic this time with lots of angst. Thank you so much for all the kind words, reblogs, likes and follows. Was thinking of making a Part 2 for this? What do you think?

Summary: Omega y/n returns home to her alpha’s after being away in Europe, thinking she would be able to re-join her alphas and be happy. Only to discover they move on without her.

Link to Part 2 = https://anime-rambles.tumblr.com/post/657712192264814592/omega-stop-part-2

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

I collect my suitcase from baggage claim and make my way towards the arrivals gate. It has been an incredibly long 8 years since I’ve been back home in Japan. After graduating UA with all my friends, I decided I needed a new path, something exciting that didn’t include my alphas. Being away from my family and friends has been one of the most difficult things to go through and more importantly being away from my alphas. It was nice to be needed and not just because of my second gender.

After graduating UA, I joined Fatgum’s agency and from there I met Jackie one of fat’s previous partners on the drug squad. She needed a bright new hero that wanted to work outside of Japan and head off a special unit in charge of investigating quirk enhancing drugs. At first everyone was onboard and excited fir me but as time went on, it was becoming increasing hard to keep in contact with my busy alphas. So, one Christmas, two years into the job we all agreed to stop dating and put our relationship on hold, until I was finished with the special unit or until one of the alphas said enough, come home. I agreed happily, never thinking I would get the come home call, but here I am. I left Europe and returned home.

The doors of arrivals opened in front of me, I look around the barrier hoping to see either of my boys, Bakugou or Kirishima, but neither blonde nor red head could be seen. I walk the corner a small bit, thinking they might be hiding but nothing. I spot movement in the distant, a blur of pink rushing to my arms, knocking me off balance.

“YYYY/NNNN, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOUR HOME” Mina sobs into my ear. “Mina” I say back hugging her tightly. Out of everyone in UA Mina stayed in constant contact with my updating me on the group’s latest gossip and everyone hero’s ranking. “Come on, lets get you home” She speaks again, taking one of my bags and my hand in hers. I smile to her and gladly accept her hand. Mina is an omega like me, after UA her and Sero got together and currently have a beautiful house and a serval fluffy cats. Once we reach the car and start our journey. Mina tells me of everyone, what they are doing and what is planned for my coming home party tonight.

“Wait, slow down, where are you taking me first” I say, laughing at her excitement. With her hands on the car wheel. She says “Bakugou and Kirishima’s” I pause for a second. They must just be living together and not actually still together without, right? They wouldn’t betray me, would they? These thoughts are fully my head, maybe coming home wasn’t a good idea. I should have ignored the “come home” agreement. What if they just want to use me to have their kid and toss me aside.

“Y/N, please say something, you made me promise not to talk about the boys when were away and right now you’re kinda scaring me.” She presses.

“I’m… just thinking. So out with it tell me what has been going on, why are they living together.” I asked shifting in my seat to look at her and she drives down the straight road.

“Okay, so it started whe….”

Mina basically said what I thought she might after I left fully and didn’t come back like we agreed. Kirishima and Bakugou stopped for a while, they didn’t live together, socialise or anything but after Kirhisma was badly injured in a battle, they moved back in with each other and kept their relationship quiet, it’s been 6 years, that they been together while I have been alone.

“So that’s basically all of it y/n, I’m sorr…”

I cut her off, “Mina this is not for you to apologise for, you kept your promise to me and now I must face the music as they say in Europe.” We had arrived outside their house ages ago, but we ended up talking. I step out of the car and move to grab my bags. I look up to the house, it’s huge and white. Very modern and what’s looks to be very expensive. But what can you expect from the Number 1 and Number 5 heroes in Japan. Mina steps out and comes to my side of the car to hug me goodbye and to tell me the information for tonight. Just then the front door opens, Kirishima steps out with a huge grin on his face. He has changed a lot since I left. He is like a wall, thick with muscle and sporting a high red ponytail.

“There she is,” Kirishima says, holding out his arms as he makes his way down the path towards me. I drop my bags and run to him. I can be anger later, but right now I need this hug. “Here I am,” I say back to him, I took my face into his neck to breathe him in, he tries to do the same but it is unable as I have my marks and scent glands covered as Europe has different rules than us. I can sense the confusion and say I will explain later. Kirishima greats Mina and they discuss briefly about this evening's plans and Mina is off on her way, waving goodbye. With his arm around me, he guides me inside towards the kitchen. We each stand on opposite sides of the Island, not knowing what to say first.

“So, where’s Bakugou? I thought you would both be at the airport” I say frankly to him, showing my frustrations. “He had to work, but he should be back home soon,” Kirishima replies shuffling his feet. I stare at him, I want to voice my anger, I want him to know how much I hurt, I need to do this with Bakugou. “Okay” I reply looking at my bags, why did I come here, why did I think we could go back to normal. “He’ll probably be late like always though, why don’t show you to your room and you can get ready for this evening” He smiled at me, like he trying to form an olive branch between us. I nod and follow him out of the room and up the stairs. All around me are reminders, parties I could not attend, award shows I missed but right now I can’t dwell on that. My time in Europe was the best experience of my life and right now I want to go back. Kirishima leads me to a guest room and leaves me to get ready. I sigh, this is going to be difficult.

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

Doing the finishing touches to my hair, I smooth my dress down as I look in the mirror. I’m wearing a tight-fitting black dress, that is off the shoulders. I rub my hands down my neck, wishing I could have had the surgery to remove my mark guards yesterday before I came home. Just to show them, that I kept my promise to them. I hear noises downstairs, Bakugou had arrived home ages ago but did not even come to say hello, just went straight to the shower. Although I know what Mina told me was true, I needed proof if I was to enter an argument with Bakugou. I walk a small bit from my room trying to stay quiet, I turn a corner and see a wall of photo frames, most are from UA and some are from Dates we three had together. The difference, I was no longer in the photos, I was cut out. You could see my arm or a sliver of my hair and maybe an eye. I felt rejection, my inner omega whined. Why would they do this to me? I ripped the frame from the walls and marched downstairs. My heels clicked on the floor beneath me. I rounded the corner and enter the kitchen not bothering to wait for their conversation to finished. I throw the frames onto the countertop and look up at both of them making eye contact. If I wasn’t so mad and hurt, I would be shocked at how mature and sexy they both are right now. Kirishima's hair is half up, half down being supported with braids and he is in a maroon shirt opened slightly. Whereas Bakugou wears a white shirt and supports an undercut. My alphas have matured, I suppose I have as well.

Kirishima looks at the frames and stays quiet. Bakugou does not dare to break eye contact with me.

“So, let me get this straight. I leave home, to become great in something that is bigger than me. I leave my alphas with an agreement, that we all would hit pause, and eventually I would come back or get a called from either of you to come home. I follow the rules, and it seems to me what I got in thanks was to be cut from your lives.” I raise my voice, guesting to the pile in front of me.

“tck…” Bakugou replies and looks at Kirishima.

“Don’t tck me Bakugou, it seems to me that I’m not even wanted here anymore, so why was I called home, let me guess you need an omega to have your child and then I’m to disappear,” I respond. “No that’s not why we called you back” Kirishima speaks up, slightly walking towards to appear less hostile.

“Funny how you call us your alphas but yet, our marks, our bond is no longer on your neck,” Bakugou responds, pointing towards me. “They are not gone, they are covered by a skin slip, in Europe is safer to have them covered in case you are kidnapped and forced to bond with someone,” I say back to him. “Omega, please let us explain, I understand your hurt, but we want you still, your part of our family,” Kirishima replies placing a hand on my elbow. I jerk away from him.

“So, all this time, when I was away, suffering through my heats alone. Omega depression after omega depression. You two, were what? Together happily rutting away.”

“Yes, how do we know you never had it off with anyone else,” Bakugou said leaning on the Island in front of me. “Bakugou, don’t say that -” Kirishima scolded him. “- we don’t think that y/n”. I stand there shocked; I can sense he is hurt but right now I will not be his vent.

“ah, I see, I was away fucking my way through Europe apparently and my alphas decided that instead of coming to see me and to tell me. They went behind my back” I stare at Bakugou not daring to back down. “How do we know you weren’t, how do we know you didn’t get our marks removed?” Bakugou asked.

I scuffed and turned out of the kitchen, towards my bags that were left at the bottom of the stairs. Both Alphas stayed in the kitchen and spoke to each other. I opened my bags and reached into it to find a wrapped plastic bag. I walked back into the kitchen, hearing Bakugou raising his voice at Kirishima, “I can’t Kiri, you almost died.” Kirishima hushed Bakugou as I re-entered the kitchen. I threw the bag at Bakugou.

“Go on, open it -” I say with my hands on my hips. “- There’s your proof” I stand and watch it. Bakugou opens the bag and pulls out two jumpers, one of his and one of Kirishima’s. Their scent has well worn out but mine could be smelled. Years of being alone, years of depression, laid in their hands. Kirishima’s eye watered. “This proves nothing, maybe if you weren’t lying about our mark being gone, we wouldn’t have this problem,” Bakugou said, dropping the jumpers on the countertop. “What do you want me to do, perform surgery right now, you know once you never doubted me” I laugh under my breath.

“Yeah well once, you weren’t such a slut, betraying your alp-“Bakugou responded but Kirishima stepped in creating a barrier between us. Tears started to form in my eyes, my vision blurred. Fine, if Bakugou wants proof right now that I was loyal then fine, I’ll give it to him.

I look at my nails and smile to myself, I thank whatever god is listening that I have long pointed nails today. Kirishima is currently speaking to Bakugou, standing in front of me. I can no longer hear him. All I know is, those skin slips have to go now. I take a deep breath in and dig my nails into my neck around where the stitched used to be. I whimper, both can smell blood and turn to look at me. I rip the slip from my skin, blood starts to pour from my neck but nothing that would majorly hurt me. I reach for the other and dig my nails in. “Y/n stop, what are you doing” Kirishima reaches to stop me, but he’s too late I pulled the other off and make eye contact with Bakugou. “You wanted your proof, here you are Bakugou, take a whiff I have NEVER BETRAYED EITHER OF YOU” I scream, throwing the slips onto the counter and storm off.

“Omega come back now” Bakugou shouts after me, I can hear him chase me and reach for my arm. I pull it forward and turn to face him. Tear are leaving my eyes, ruining my makeup, my dress ruined from the blood. “What Katsuki, you believe me now? What do you want from me, why are you mad?” Bakugou stands in shock, unable to talk. “ANSWER ME NOW,” I scream again. Bakugou reaches forward grabbing my arms, tears forming in his. Kirishima was leaning on the door behind him.

“HE ALMOST DIED, AND YOU WEREN’T THERE, I WAS ALONE, WATCHING HIM DIE AND YOU WERENT THERE, YOU PROMISED ME I’D NEVER BEEN ALONE, AND YOU LEFT ME ALONE WAITING FOR HIM TO COME BACK” he roared at me. I shoved Bakugou off me.

“I CAME HOME WHEN EIJIROU WAS IN HOSPITAL” I shouted back, both alphas heads shot straight up and looked at me. “I was there, I broke me promise to stay away until I was asked by either of you to come home. But I saw the fight, I saw Eijirou get knockdown and didn’t get back up. I hopped on the nearest flight and came home. You need proof, ask Fatgum, Denki, Tamaki, Deku.. anyone who sat in that waiting room.” I said looking into Bakugou's eyes. Kirishima walked forward to join us. Bakugou went to speak. “No you let me speak, I was there. Kirishima opened his eyes and called me an angel and then you shot into the room in a panic and threw yourself on him. Bakugou you looked in my eyes and didn’t say a word, so I stepped back, you saw me there, you. Don’t blame this on me. Knowing how angry you would be, Deku came and got me, promising to watch over both of you.” I stopped to wipe the tears from my eyes.

“How dare you hold that over me Katsuki Bakugou,” I say to him, Kirishima reaches for my hand as if to pull us all back together. I step back, I need to breathe to get out. I walk about the front door, grabbing my handbag. “I’ll see you at the party, some welcome home this was,” I say not looking back and slam the front door.

I walk down the path and reach for my phone, dialing Mina’s number. “Hey girly, I’m just about to leave for the pub,” Mina says down the phone. I start to cry and sit down on the curb. “Sero, wait a second” Mina whispers away from the phone. “Y/n, what’s happened, what’s going on,” She says again her voice has lowered. “Mina I need some help; I can’t see everyone looking like this,” I say back to her. I cry again, I can hear the door behind me open and I stand. I turn and see Kirishima, “Y/n wait please, come back in, we can sort this out,” he says, and I look over his shoulder. Bakugou is frozen in the same spot, staring at the floor. “I’m almost there, start walking to me,” Mina says and hangs up. I bend down and undo the straps of my heels, steeping out of them leaving them on the step. I start to run down the street, I need some quiet, I need to think.

“OMEGA STOP” Bakugou shouts behind me, but I can’t. I see Mina’s car and run towards it.

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tofumedic · 3 years ago

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general relationship hcs with the brothers!!

summary// how i interpret how they love you(gn! mc)

Lucifer

he gets softer, he tries not to show it in public or anywhere with peeping brothers trying to get dirt on his image

but he unwinds, theres tension in his shoulders and stance completely but you look at him and he just goes "ah. nice."

he definitely covers it up by correcting his posture and with a small cough but satan just gives him a look

he holds less venom until the problem children of the house make new big trouble

he requests you to join him in his study only when hes certain that you aren't busy or dealing with RAD work he feels bad interrupting

is secretly proud of himself for not bothering you

anyways likes inviting you to listen to his records with him and if you ask or are feeling bad will let you pick one of the records he bought you

if you have a favorite of his own he will play it consistently he memorizes the grooves of that vinyl

he hums it to get your attention just to catch your eyes y'know? small things like that keep him going until he's not as busy

Mammon

he's always at your rescue, trying to be close by like a support dog he wants to make sure youre feeling okay

loves answering questions for you but plays it off as an annoyance he wants you to not think he's as dumb as his brothers say

leaves little pieces of himself with you, jackets of his in your room, has a copy of his bathroom stuff sharing counter and shower space with yours

he doesn't mean to in a bad way but he snoops, looking for a shirt that would look totally super good on him why would you own whats clearly his huh? just wants to be reminded of you

he takes in as much as he can, his eyes dart over everything in your room learning its place for different items, piecing together how things are you

it affects his greed bc now he picks up stuff that reminds him of you even simple stuff like you mentioned you needed a shelf? -oh god be damned he bought a set of them in your favorite color because they were on his mind

learns your mannerisms, has a major thing about mirroring you. he even starts laughing a bit more like you when your gone like he's filling your space

Leviathan

MC would you pretty please match icons with me *the pointy finger emotes*

adores finding characters that act like you and ones that act like him, it makes him ship pairings he may have not cared for previously bc subconsciously... those are you two

he would change your contact to henry with one of the cute face emoticons and some hearts but if someone like his brothers see it and mention it its just "mc normie 🧍‍♂️" for like a week during his recovery

he just wants to share what he likes with you!!!

he gets trusting with you believing you're safe to know about his interests and will info dump to you about his hyperfixations

and he equally wants to know about yours even if he already knows he will ask you questions to get you to share more and it makes him so happy he just melts at hearing you happy

and the fact it's just a special thing between you two? he's over the moon its such a flex that when his brothers try to steal you away they are too confused like you two are talking in code

Satan

he loves sharing space with you

as in he likes your company but he also likes that he can still read while you do something else because he gets to enjoy you and his studies of the moment

even if he doesn't share them depending on if he's ready to if it's really personal or for an event, he will write about you

sometimes they're poems, usually free-form unless hes feeling in a certain mood mainly so he doesn't have to worry about not using words he feels suit you but don't fit his rhythm scheme. sometimes they're full stories just rushed writings until he's not as full of love that its so overwhelming

this means its rushed with pen smearing from his hand having rested on the paper, words slanted and becoming cursive in order for his speed to be faster, he always writes in one sitting or will lose the motivation but its always based on you and how he feels about you that are his best pieces

you're his muse and shows it in how even if he's less physically attentive he does start to push into your small affections like holding his face or holding his hand, he leans into you like a cat taking a nap in the sun

Asmodeus

he asks you for your favorite kinds of affection, your least favorites, requests you all time, he wants to make you the most pleased the most comfortable so you enjoy the attention as much as he does

he also likes matching with you but in the way of clothes or doing your hair to match his or making kandi bracelets that have each other names or him wearing lipstick and you wearing a colored kiss pressed in sweet visible places. anywhere on your face is free game

he's a spot thief if anyone leaves you alone for a moment he's soaking up the attention, a hard believer of finders keepers. he likes filling spots he wants to help you feel complete, he wants to be there for you

real full love is hard for him, it's hard to believe in but after forming the pact he comes to terms that it's not just infatuation

talks with him will become more personal and deep instead talking about his brothers or just gossip to keep you updated though you of course still get it but its not a shield anymore if he's gonna be... bare with you he will do it fully

he starts saving objects like glass drink bottles or tickets or receipts from cute cafes, he loves photos especially of you but also of date scenery, of you with him even if its just your hands or your legs pressed against his while sitting. he likes the proof that you're real that you like him for real

Beelzebub

he makes sure you eat but only if you want to! humans eat so little are you sure you don't want dessert with him? you can share he can get an extra spoon

he tries to keep you safe even from yourself, he might be a little slow but he learns your tells if you give him time you chased off his nightmares so he has to do the same you deserve it

he enjoys simple intimacy like hugs and holding hands and stuff like that just for reminders but he also likes bumping into you just lightly he doesn't want you to fall but if you take an extra step after he has a small smile, rubbing against you with his head if his mouth is full or if talking is tough

will add some of your favorite foods to a list of his favorites because you're his favorite! he will also recommend stuff close to your favorites he looks out for them

he's another that enjoys your company going to you or a space thats full of you like your room just makes him feel more at ease, it's not uncommon for him to subconsciously just follow a few feet behind you while you're moving around

(this also leads to a slower set of footsteps following at an even further distance, its belphie following his mobile heating pads for sleeping if he could be bothered enough)

Belphegor

he's your new weighted blanket and youre the pillow it's a whole set, his complaints light hearted about his pillow moving so much when you give him small head pets

he includes you in schemes with satan deciding not to hide the truth like you again originally trying to make up his apology through his actions

he's very smart! he's fast on learning on how you're feeling depending on your body language or if he put his elbow in a bad spot while laying down

now know when asmo said that he(belphie) has the greatest smile you get that for free! sometimes you do have to pay the toll in naps or just pillowing him or doing something to make beel smile

his love is his trust, it's your trust, its proving himself not only to you but to his brothers and himself. you deserve the best and so he has to be that. his love is learning thats he's already earned yours in his regret and his growth

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boldlyvoid · 3 years ago

Text

Amoreena | Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: fluffiest fluff ever, jealous amoreena, jealous spencer, the LaMontagne family is in this too !!

word count: 3.8K

from the beginning <3

He went to work with Y/N on Tuesday to fill out all the paperwork and officially become an employee at the D.C Public Library. He signed a contract, he was switched over to a different government healthcare, answering a million calls and emails all morning, he was officially not an FBI agent.

They had lunch together in the park, buying some sandwiches and walking across the street to a picnic table to talk about their days while they ate. He liked her co-workers, they all were shocked to find out she was “married” to him after being single the whole time she’s worked there.

They had plans to go get Amoreena from school a few minutes early, before heading to meet his mother, not telling her about the plans unless Diana had a bad day last minute and couldn’t see them. So far, according to the nurses, she was lucid and having a great day waiting for them.

“So about yesterday morning,” Y/N changed the subject, biting her lip like she was avoiding this.

“What about it?”

“Amoreena really wants us to have a wedding, I was thinking we could go up to New York for fathers day and have another fake wedding?” Y/N hypothesized her plan, hoping for Spencer’s approval.

He couldn’t help but smile, about to answer when he got an email on his phone. “I’d love to do that, it would be nice to go on a vacation with just as the three of us.”

“You can check that,” she said, noticing he looked at his phone as it buzzed.

It was an email. Not from anyone he knew, it wasn’t about work or healthcare, it wasn’t his mom or Penelope sending him funny things from the internet…

No, it was from Taylor Swift. He tried his best to calm his facial reactions and micro-expressions so she’d think it was just something work-related. An emailed contract, updated health forms, nothing too serious.

To: Spencer Reid From: Taylor Swift Subject: Amoreena

Hey Spencer!

Portia reached out and said that your wife and daughter are huge fans and you were interested in some summer tickets in Virginia… I was thinking if you guys ever found yourself in Rhode Island you’d all want to come to my place, my doors always open for friends 💛 Love Taylor xx

“What?” Y/n asked, trying to read over his shoulder as he turned the phone away.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, locking his phone and putting it in his pocket to reply to her later. “Have you ever thought about a beach wedding? Rhode Island is pretty nice in June.”

She tilted her head as she bit back a smile, wondering what he was planning, “Amoreena will have us reenact the little mermaid 2 instead of Enchanted then, just fyi, but yeah that sounds fun, we should get a beach house on Airbnb for the weekend.”

“Okay, let me handle it all, you don’t need to plan a single thing, just show up with a dress?” Spencer offered, knowing how scared weddings made her now.

She kissed his cheek softly, resting her chin on his shoulder as she leaned over on him, “nothing fancy or crazy okay?”

“Define crazy?” He teased her… she really had no idea what was coming.

To: Taylor Swift From: Spencer Reid Subject: RE: Amoreena

Thank you so much for the quick response and generous offer, we were thinking of having a small elopement in Rhode Island with just the three of us over Father’s Day weekend if that works for you? Seven is the song we danced to at our intimate personal wedding, however, Amoreena’s pretty sad she didn’t get to witness it, that’s why we’re having another one with her. (And hopefully you!) Thank you for making my girls so happy over all the years that I didn’t know them yet, you’re probably their favourite person in the world, even more so than me! It would mean everything to them to meet you or see you in any way, you’re incredibly kind for this.

Thanks again, Spencer Reid x

He tried his best to be as calm and nice as possible in his response, still managing to rant a little even in text format. It was just how he communicated, either not at all or all at once. He was so excited for Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you said your mom has a scrapbook,” Y/N changed the subject after Spencer spent 5 minutes in silence, turned away from her as he answered an email.

“She does, she’s going to show you a lot of photos of me today,” he smiled at the fact she remembered.

“I know you want to tell her about Amoreena alone before we come in, so I made her something for her scrapbook, it’s back on my desk drying,” Y/N was so precious as she got excited, that same giddiness he see’s in Amoreena bursting through her.

“Okay, let’s go see it,” he put his phone in his pocket and followed her back across the street towards the library.

On some beautiful floral scrapbook paper, Y/N glued an array of photos of Amoreena from the beginning all the way to the museum trip last week.

A photo of her first round of IVF, dated February 19th, 2013. Exactly 1 month after he donated, she must have chosen his sample as soon as it entered the system, even a photo of the sample jar reading “sample 2319”, A photo of her crying in the garden with her grandma when she found it she was pregnant, wrapped in a big coat and surrounded by snow. Her pregnancy announcement being a baby sock on a stuffed toy Sully from Monsters Inc, "new door opening November 2013!" Amoreena has been surrounded by references to books and movies since the beginning.

There was a photo from the moment Amoreena was born, crying and brand-new, resting on Y/N’s chest as she sobbed, more beautiful than he’s ever seen her before, completely in love with the child she made.

Amoreena Margery Y/L/N - November 13th, 2013, 9:53 pm 7lbs 12oz, 21 inches of perfection

“Her middle name is Margery?”

“Yeah,” she smiled back at his ever glowing face, wondering why it was so important to him. “Like Margery Kempe, my grandma’s favourite.”

“She’s my mom’s favourite too,” Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, it was such a strange turn of events. He saw so much of his mother in Amoreena just for her to have a middle name related to her.

Y/N couldn’t believe it, “I’m so excited to meet her!”

“I just hope she’s okay today, truly,” Spencer worried. “She is my best friend and a great mother, don’t get me wrong. But some of the things she did to me on her bad days were scary, and I never want Amoreena to experience that.”

Y/N pulled him into a hug, “it’s hereditary isn’t it?” He nodded against her shoulder as she tried to soothe all the impending anxiety out of his body. “I’m not going anywhere, she won't have to raise herself and care for you, that’ll never happen to her.”

She guessed, and she was right. Reading his mind like she’s already been in there and watched all his trauma, she knew all the right words and how exactly to push his feelings away. She was sunshine clearing his grey skies once more, about to cause a drought so he’d no longer rain on his own parade. Marching beside him, hand in hand into the future.

—

They waited at the gate of Amoreena’s school, none of the other parents were waiting yet, giving Y/N a chance to show Spencer around the yard and tell him about her school. “She’s in senior kindergarten, she has a November birthday so I opted to send her in when she was 6 instead of 5, giving me an extra year of home pre-school.”

“That’s why she’s so smart, not my genes,” Spencer smiled, walking around the edge of the gate with her hand still in his.

“They want her to jump right into grade 5 next year, I said no, she deserves a childhood with children she doesn’t have to compete with or see her as a threat,” Y/N voice was stern even in the recounting like she knew from experience. “Because she’ll be 8 in November she’s going into grade 2 instead, then she’ll be in the same age range and mental level, but all her friends she knows in grade 1 will be in the same recess yard as her.”

“I went from kindergarten to grade 4, then I jumped to grade 6 when I was 9 and I graduated high school at 13, it was terrible,” Spencer agreed, not knowing if he had a place in the decision but wanting her to know he agreed with it.

“Let’s go inside and get her,” Y/N smiled at him, understanding his meaning perfectly and dragging him into the school.

“Hello miss Ludlough,” Y/N beamed as she entered the main office with her arm tucked under Spencers, showing him off slightly.

“Y/N, good afternoon! Do you need me to call that little angel down early?” The secretary was a lovely older woman, wrinkled and happy as she smiled back.

“No, I just need to get some paperwork to put her dad in the files?” Y/N surprised Spencer with that and he almost stopped breathing.

“Really?” He whispered, capturing her attention as her eyes twinkled up at him.

“I’d like you on her emergency contacts, if they can’t get ahold of me I’d like you to be with her,” Y/N confirmed, patting his shoulder softly as Miss Ludlough handed her a few forms.

Spencer signed everywhere he needed to, handing them his licence to be photocopied into her file for proof when he picked her up in the future. He was glad to see there was a system, that they cared for his little girl and she wasn’t going to be going home with anyone who wasn’t in that file. And if she did he had no problem hunting them down and getting her back in whatever way he had to…

He shook the thought out of his head as it arises, reminding himself that that isn’t who he is now and she would be fine. They lived in a happy world where bad things didn’t happen.

Y/N’s hand rubbing his lower back helped, he stood straight again and pushed the papers over the desk, smiling as he officially became her father on 3 different sheets of paper. That was as real as it could get.

“Spence?” He heard an all to familiar voice from behind him.

Turning to see JJ and Will smiling with wide arms, waiting for his embrace. “What are you doing here?” She asked him, voice high as she was clearly shocked.

He walked into her arms and held her quickly, “I’m here with my wife,” breaking the news to her in the most casual way possible. “Picking up our kid.”

“Y/N?” Will noticed her then, “holy shit, you’re the wife?”

She nodded with a smile, hugging will quickly like she has known him for years, “how are you, cowboy?”

Spencer and JJ looked at each other incredibly confused, JJ clearly didn’t know her so how did Will?

“Will and I have been on what, 6 school trips together? Michael and Amoreena are buddies,” Y/N explained with a soft smile, “I knew Henry and Michaels's names sounded familiar…”

“Nini thinks I’m a cowboy,” Will laughed lightly, smiling at Y/N the way he did at JJ and something in Spencer almost snapped thinking about Will being the one person between him and the girl he liked, once again.

Only this time she was his wife and not the cute media liaison who had no interest in him until he came out of prison.

“She was very upset when she found out that Will was already married, she wanted us to be Woody and Jessie from toy story,” Y/N had no problem ranting about how their kids got along and how good of friends they had become over the last 2 years of school trips.

Y/N noticed the anxiety in Spencer’s eyes as he pulled away from JJ and made sure no one was touching him, “luckily, our little girl’s got the best daddy in the whole world now and all her dreams came true.”

“She sure does,” JJ agreed, “Hey, I gave your mom all those books you gave me for the boys, when you were away, so she had something to keep remembering you with, you should give them to Amoreena.”

“I will, we’re going to see her tonight,” he was able to push past the feelings and enjoy the moment of his friends meeting his wife, even if the title was just pretend.

“I’m so excited,” Y/N shook her hands the same way Amoreena did, stepping into Spencer's space and wrapping her arm around him. “Can we pick her up from the room Miss Ludlough?”

“Sure thing, do you want me to call down and say Mikey’s parents are here too?”

“Yes, please,” JJ smiled over the counter.

With the four of them walking down the hall together to get their kids, Spencer felt like he was sleepwalking. Too many emotions were running through his veins to feel real, but then Y/N took his hand in hers and rested her cheek against his arm as they walked and he was fine.

She tugged on his arm and waited in the hallway while JJ and Will entered the classroom first, “what’s wrong, she’ll know you’re upset?”

He sighs, shaking the stupidity out of his mind. “I had a huge crush on JJ before they got pregnant with Henry, and when I came back from prison she told me she had always loved me and it got weird for a bit and I’m still kinda mad when I see Will bond with the people I love.”

“I was wondering when you’d get possessive,” she teased him, “I’m yours and I wouldn’t have your ring on if I wasn’t, no matter how another man looks at me, I only love you.”

“I’m sorry, I know.”

“It’s okay, you’re not used to this are you?” She saw right through it. “Am I your first real girlfriend?”

“Kinda, Maeve and I never even really met until she was kidnapped,” he admits and it sounds so childish in his mind.

“Okay we’ll talk about this later cause that sounds like a good story I should know,” she tried to smile, standing on her tiptoes to peck his lips softly before smiling more. “Let’s go get your kid?”

“Let's,” his smile returned.

They turned the corner into the vibrant room, Amoreena was talking to Will when she noticed Spencer at the door, running towards him and almost pushing Will over to do so, “Dad!”

He picked her up and snuggled right into the crook of her little neck, giving her the biggest hug he’s ever given and not realizing just how much he missed her until she was back in his arms again. His baby, the littlest life he’s ever held this close to his heart.

When he put her down he noticed all the women’s eyes were on him, hands over their hearts at the pure display of affection between father and daughter. They all saw him as her dad, they had no reason not to, giving him all the attention he’s never received before.

“What are you doing here?” Her tiny voice asked as she beamed at him with wonder.

He kneeled in front of her to get on her eye level when Michael came running over, “Hi uncle Spencer!” He tackled him into a hug.

“Uncle Spencer?” Amoreena’s brow furrowed as she scowled at the boy taking her dad’s attention, she pulled Michael back by his shirt. “That’s my dad!”

“Amoreena, honey,” Spencer tried not to laugh, she was definitely his kid, “Michels mom, JJ, is my best friend from work and I’m his older brother Henry’s godfather, they’re your cousins.”

She looked at him like he was insane, “what’s a godfather?”

“If anything bad happens to his mommy or daddy and they can’t take care of them, they’ll come live with us,” it was the simplest answer, “I’m not their father, I’m yours.”

She nodded and hugged him again, sticking her tongue out at Michael in the process, “why are you here?” She repeated the question.

Y/N was standing over him with a hand on his shoulder then, “we’re taking you to meet your other grandma.”

Amoreena started to shake with excitement, moving her hands and grinding her teeth as she smiles, shrieking with excitement, “I have another grandma!?”

JJ was watching from the corner of the room, secretly filming it on her phone for the rest of the team to see Spencer with his baby. A sight many of them never thought they’d ever see as he slowly lost hope, losing himself somewhere along the way and no longer wanting to accept their help. This was a big moment for the team too, their little brother was finally happy.

—

In the car, Spencer sat with Amoreena in the back seat so he could tell her everything about her new grandma. Or as Amoreena wanted to call her, Princess Diana, “I can’t believe you’re actually royalty!”

They all laugh at how her fantastic little brain works, “you can’t tell anyone that Princess Diana is in DC okay? It’s a government secret!” Y/N teased from the driver's seat.

“I’m like Princess Mia!” She screamed at the top of her lungs and Spencer was astounded she could be that loud.

“Okay, okay, not that loud! we can't scare any of the people who live here. They like it to be calm and quiet so the patients can be happy,” Y/N settled her down, “Dad is going to go in and tell grandma all about us for a little while and then we’ll go meet her okay? He wants to make sure she’s happy today before we go in.”

With that, they were pulling into his mother's care facility and he felt like he was going to be sick with excitement. He used to visit his mother with the fear of rage and disappointment in her eyes, he was too proud to let his anxiety take that from him today.

He kissed her forehead before getting out, Y/N handed him the scrapbook pages through the window and he leaned inside to give her a kiss too. Receiving a disgusted groan from Amoreena, he pulled away and walked into the building while they found a place to park.

She was waiting for him in the garden, sitting at a picnic table with her scrapbook and gifts for Amoreena. “Spencer!”

“Hey mom,” he smiled as he hugged her, “how are you feeling?”

“Fantastic, where is this family you made?” She was so ready to meet them, truly there inside her mind and willing to learn more about this life he was making.

“Sit down first,” he said softly, taking a seat beside her at the table and placing the scrapbook page on the table. “This is my Amoreena.”

Her fingers glided over the words, “Margery,” she repeated her middle name with a smile. “She has a sperm donor for a father?”

“I’m a sperm donor, mom,” he smiled softly as he broke the news.

She turned to him with shock, “she’s yours?”

“We think so, so that’s what we’re telling people, she’s mine regardless.”

Diana wrapped him up in another hug, “I’m so happy for you Spencer. You always deserved a perfect family, I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you. I hope your dreams come true with her.”

Just like that Amoreena and Y/N were rounding the corner and walking over towards their table. She had a huge smile on her face and a card in her hand, walking right up to Diana and handing it to her.

“Hi, grandma, I’m Amoreena,” she introduced herself politely before stretching her arms out for a hug.

Diana wrapped her up in the softest little hug, trying not to cry in front of her brand new granddaughter, which was fine because Spencer was the one crying. Turning away from them so Amoreena wouldn’t see as Y/N patted his arm with a smile.

They were fast friends, Y/N and Diana bonding over Margery Kempe and while Amoreena opened the two gifts Diana got for her, a simple colouring book and Spencer's original copy of Matilda from when he was a child. She sat down in the grass and read it while they all caught up, lost in her own little world.

It was the most perfect afternoon, just him and his family, happier than he’s ever dreamed he could be.

—

He checked his phone one last time before bed, Y/N was sitting against the headboard reading a book and so deep in the story, he knew she wouldn’t be able to read over his shoulder.

Scrolling through everything from the day to see that yes, there was a response from Taylor Swift. It felt insane, but he opened it and started to read her plans.

Spencer!! You’re so sweet, I’m sure you make them incredibly happy! I’d love to have you stay in the guest house here, and I’m ordained if you need someone to make it real and official ♥︎ let me know what I can do, I’d love to help in any way to make some fairytale dreams come true! Taylor xx

Smiling like an idiot, he closed his phone. He’d reply tomorrow, till then he was going to snuggle into his wife and appreciate their time together.

She lifted an arm to let him lay against her chest, “today she woke up and decided to be an explorer, the little girl with the wildest imagination stormed out of her home and towards the unknown part of her land. It was her destiny to travel across the bridge and unite the people beyond the field, towards the pond that was swallowed by willow trees,” Y/N read the grandmother's thoughts from the page.

“With her wooden sword, she sliced and diced on the ivy that surrounded the gate. Freeing the hinges and allowing the entrance to swing open, unlocking a new area of the world for her mind to wander.

“For what the regular human eye saw, Amoreena saw it times a million. Every colour and then some, new colours appearing in the morning glow as she stared at the dew on the leaves she just chopped through. She saw the world in a way that made everything exciting, there was never a bad thing, only good things with interesting quirks.

“She passed every mushroom and toadstool, every strange-looking tree and human-shaped moss ball, greeting them with a good morning as she strolled through the once-forbidden forest. Her adventure only beginning, the objective not yet known.”

“Your grandma could see the future,” Spencer whispered as she turned the page, “that’s our wonderful little girl’s mind in words.”

Y/N kissed the top of his head, “our wonderful little girl.” She repeated the words, loving the way they sounded on his tongue as much as he loved how she said it.

Taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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morimakesfanart · 3 years ago

Text

Sindria's Prophet #14

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

[AO3]

~POV Mori~

I woke up when it was still dark out. Only the faintest light came in my windows.

I hadn't done anything yesterday. Just laid down and rested for the first time in a long time. The doctor's were convinced I needed one more day of rest, but I knew I was already better. When was the last time I had just let my body rest like that when I wasn't sick? I couldn't remember. This peace was nice.

The quiet of sunrise was only broken by the faint sound of bird calls in the distance. I sat up and closed my eyes. I focused everything on my other senses. I couldn't hear the ocean easily from here. I had wanted to use the sounds of the waves to meditate, but I would just have to do without.

It had been a few days since I last checked in with myself and really focused inward. I could still feel them, all of the Black Rukh that had merged with me back in Balbadd. They were much calmer than before. And they felt like a part of me now, like I might be incomplete if they were suddenly gone. I knew each one from the dreams too. Their lives were mine and each also now knew my life as their own.

Going through all of their lives on the ship would have been painful even without being sick. These were angry souls and they did not welcome the inner peace I was offering easily, but a person's Rukh doesn't lie. After reading this world's truth through my memories they all calmed.

All of us lived lives of loss and poverty and trauma. That must have been another part of why we were able to fully merge in such a short time.

As Black Rukh they couldn't return to the Great Flow where the rest of their loved ones were, but they at least had each other within me.

It was a very strange feeling.

And along with their lives and Rukh, their magoi was also now mine. What had felt like a small pool now felt like a large lake. I had a lot more magoi at my disposal now that they were fully integrated with me.

The Great Bell range and I grounded myself in the present.

Only then did it occur to me that I was probably sick, and suffering from the influx of Rukh separately at the same time. It had been both all along. Whatever illness I had was worsened by my situation with the Rukh. I hadn't lost my magoi manipulation during it, but it was probably learning it ahead of time that had saved me. There's no way such a large amount of Rukh entering me wouldn't have made my body unstable.

Would the doctors understand if I explained it to them? I should ask Sinbad before saying something unnecessary.

The dim light from my windows called to me. I got out of my bed, put on my glasses, and sat on the sill of one them at the encouragement of the waves.

Like this, I could look down and see the Palace court yard. On the other side of the court yard were the Silver Scorpio (martial arts training), and Black Libra (libraries & schools) Towers, behind them to the left was the Red Cancer Tower (military) and fully to the left was the Purple Leo Tower where Sinbad lived. Since I was on a high floor I could easily see all of the towers of the Palace from my windows -all except the White Capricorn Tower where Ja'far does most of his work since that building was on the other side of this one.

It was so strange. Looking at all this made it real that I was really here. How many times had I reread or rewatched scenes wondering what it would feel like to be here?

I rested my head on the window frame as I watched the growing light from the sunrise.

The guards changed.

The sun was fully risen. Ja'far would be waking up Sinbad soon if he hadn't already.

Two people walked out of the Purple Leo Tower -a guard and a woman. She wasn't wearing a uniform. In fact she was wearing less than the citizens I saw the other day.

"Oh, right."

Sinbad has a call girl see to him after Ja'far wakes him up.

I had the 3rd fan book for the anime which contains a day-in-the-life for a bunch of the main characters. It was only in Japanese, but I had learned enough (and could look up what I didn't know) to at least read his schedule.

The direct translation was for a "temporary woman" which from what I've found is the Japanese term for a fem sex worker. I've seen some translations for Magi's extra material refer to them as "call girls" so that was the term I chose to use.

The franchise used the word "harem" in a bunch of places, but purposely didn't use it here. That combined with an omake of Sinbad having a nightmare about being married and having a harem made it clear that Sinbad did not have a harem; he had the whole red-light district of his country to choose from.

Hold on... That book wasn't supposed to reach my house until after I had Isekaied so how did I know it's contents? There were barely any scans or photos of pages online-

*Knock knock*

My thoughts

were cut off when breakfast arrived -with more medicine of course.

---

~POV Sinbad~

Nearly a week had passed since King Sinbad had arrived home. There was a lot to catch up on. As much as he wanted to finally relax after everything that happened in Balbadd he didn't really have the time for it. Even after catching up he would still have to prepare for his trip to the Kou Empire. And Ja'far wasn't letting him forget either responsibility.

None of this stopped him from having his slow mornings. He at least gave himself that little slice of heaven.

This was business as usual -at least it was supposed to be- but Sinbad couldn't shake a growing feeling that he couldn't name. It was making him unsettled. The waves didn't give him any answers and drinking hadn't made it go away. It felt similar to missing important.

He wasn't missing any paperwork. There had been an issue with one of their supply ships going missing, and another being delayed, but he had already decided how to proceed. He was definitely interested in the progress the Black Libra Tower was making with testing Mori's theories, but the experiments would take time and they had already scheduled a meeting for an update. The new guests were still settling in. Alibaba was a mess and Aladdin was only marginally better the last time he had visited, but Morgiana was fine and already training with Masrur regularly. According to the doctors reports, Mori would be better in another day or so, and the reports he got from the maids said she was resting every day after giving that partial scroll.

Maybe this was impatience. Aside from his paperwork, everything interesting was either done or waiting for the next step.

Sinbad often walked his country in the evening, but there was no reason he couldn't check on things now. He didn't have time to go for a walk at that moment, but he could spare the magoi needed to use Zepar and fly around the country using the bird he had possessed with the Djinn's power. This wouldn't be the first time he'd done this while working on paperwork.

The bird was sitting on a railing in the city center when Sinbad took over. From this spot he could make some quick rounds in the city and then maybe make a stop in the Black Libra Tower to get a sneak peak at what they had found out so far.

The same old gossip filled most of the streets. Some price complaints, who just had a child, how work was going...

"You're serious? A prophet?”

"My husband saw the scrolls she made from her visions with his own two eyes."

Now that was new gossip.

Sinbad had the bird land near by the two women.

"Oh? What was in them?"

"He said it was like reading secrets of the world."

"Really???"

"Mhmm." She nodded. "Not everyone believes it though so they are all working to test her writing."

"Didn't you just say she was brought in by our King? Do they really think he'd be fooled by some false prophet?"

"I said the same thing! And you know what my husband said? He said that they need to find proof even if they believe the Prophet because otherwise we won't be able to prove it to our allied countries."

"I guess that makes sense..."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Oh! I think I might know what she looks like!”

"What? How? You only learned about her just now."

"When King Sinbad came home, there was a girl on some magical flying cloth, remember? That has to have been the Prophet!"

"I think you're right!"

To two moved on to some other gossip and King had the bird fly towards the Palace. Listening to talk about his Beautiful Prophet reminded him of his mission to peek at what was happening in the Black Libra Tower. Being able to bypass the stairs and the gates made the journey much faster.

The Sun was already in the western side of the sky. Shadows were cast onto the court yard from the Black Libra Tower. The stone of the Green Sagittarius Tower was nearly blinding white from the direct light. Color flashed in the corner of his eye as the bird flew past the upper levels of the guest tower. Before his thoughts had fully registered the familiar shade of nearly black indigo, Sinbad was guiding the bird to investigate. He landed on the railing of one of the windows and looked at the young woman resting against that same window's frame.

Mori looked just as surprised to see a bird land right in front of her as he was to be there. Sinbad had purposely been avoiding using Zepar to spy on Mori since she somehow knew that he had eavesdropped on her before. It had been days since he last saw her, so when she was suddenly an option-

"Heh hehe"

Mori's chuckle and smile took his full attention. He didn't know what had made her laugh, but he hoped she'd do it again.

"Sir, are you aware you are a bird?” After the words passed her lips she was struck by a giggle fit.

Sinbad had no idea what she was thinking or why she had said that to a bird, but he was hearing her voice for the first time in nearly a week so he'd worry about figuring it out later.

When Mori finished laughing at her own joke she leaned her head to the side and watched him. Her hair shifted and another lock spilled over her shoulder. The sight brought attention to the low neckline of the dress she was wearing. If Sinbad was there in person he would have brushed her hair out of the way just to have an excuse to touch her.

"Did you miss me that much?" Her voice was soft and a bit playful. "You didn't have to use Zepar to visit me."

Mori knew it was him! Sinbad jolted and his head hit the back of his chair in his office. How could she tell? Only magicians could see magoi and Rukh to see the spell active on the bird.

"Sin, is something wrong?-” Ja'far had just entered the room to give his afternoon report.

King Sinbad raised a hand for him to be quiet and tapped Zepar's ring to explain the situation. He didn't want to talk and miss something Mori said or did.

The General's expression turned serious and nodded as he went quiet.

When Mori didn't get a response from the bird she added, "Are you surprised that I knew it was you?" Her smile was warm as the sun. "I have read your Fate many times, so I will always recognize you, my King."

Normally, the idea that someone could see through Zepar's magic would concern him, but this didn't. It strengthened his belief that Fate had guided Mori to him.

And the affectionate way she said "my King" at the end made him smile. The waves had moved like this a few times like the last time he had seen her in person, and when he learned she could also feel the waves. The Great Flow of the Rukh was guiding them to the Fate he could see, the one where she lived the rest of her life by his side.

Ja'far sighed. "Just let me know when I can give you my report."

Mori whipped her head towards the door to her room. "They're here early."

There were the sounds of people walking in the hallway, but no voices to denounce who, or their destination. All the same, Mori got up and walked to the door. She opened it before the doctors had a chance to knock.

"How did you...?" One of the doctors asked.

"I recognized the sound of your footsteps," was her answer.

"I see.... And how are you feeling today?"

Mori walked into her room, and spared a glance at the bird still watching her from the window. "I feel fine. Just like yesterday." She turned back towards the door and sat on the edge of her bed. "So can I finally leave this room?"

The doctors were understanding but they still were going to do a full check up first.

Even without the waves it was obvious that Mori was going to be marked as full health. Sinbad would prefer to go see her immediately and give her a tour of the Palace personally, but he was still a King with responsibilities. "Ja'far, Mori has just been declared healthy. What do you think of everyone having dinner together to get everyone better aquatinted?"

"I didn't hear anything about-” Ja'far started and then cut himself when he realized. "Were you just using Zepar to spy on her??"

"Of course not." Sinbad said with all of the confidence of the King he was. "I flew directly to her and she recognized me instantly. I wasn't spying at all."

"She recognized you??" Of course he'd be shocked.

King Sinbad laughed. "She did. Though she was surprised to see me."

"I bet she was surprised to suddenly see a bird in her room. What made you think to use Zepar instead of visiting her in person? You're already getting regular reports on her condition." Ja'far always acted as a buzz kill.

It didn't stop Sinbad from laughing at the situation before finally asking for that report he postponed earlier -conveniently avoiding answering Ja'far's question.

The magician in Mori's room was talking. "Would you be interested in visiting the Black Libra Tower with us? We can show you how the experiments are going. And if possible, would you be willing to answer some questions?"

That was an understandable request, but it could wear her out.

The Prophet was facing away from the windows so Sinbad couldn't see her expression. "I'd really like that actually." But he could hear the excitement growing in her voice.

"Let me get changed real quick." Mori disappeared behind her folding wall and emerged in the outfit he met her in.

Sinbad did not drop control of the bird, but he also didn't follow Mori out of her room. Instead he waited in the window sill until he saw her enter the courtyard and then had the bird fly to the Black Libra Tower.

---

As soon as he finished whatever last minute things Ja'far was about to add to his pile, Sinbad would go to the Black Libra Tower and surprise his Beautiful Prophet in person.

~POV Mori~

In the manga and in the anime the only areas shown of the Black Libra Tower were Yamuraiha's office/lab and one of the libraries. I was more than curious about the rest of the facilities.

The first room seemed to be a reception area and had a map of the tower. I only got to glance at the separations between the libraries, offices and class rooms before a tall and lanky magician walked up to us.

"Is this her??” Her short ponytail bounced as she looked between me and my guides.

Isa, the magician who had been taking care of me the past few days, introduced me. "This is Lady Mori, the Prophet!” He acted like he was showing off the coolest toy on the playground.

The tall woman got right up in my face. "I knew she had to be the Prophet! The Rukh don't normally move this way around people."

Before I got to respond she started rambling comments and questions that covered everything in maroon and peacock blue getting sponged across a cream canvas. I stepped back and Isa cut her off. "Lady Mori will be answering everyone's questions in time. We were just on our way to see Yamuraiha so I can show her how everything has been coming along. You are welcome to join us."

She definitely joined us. As did many others who spotted us or were called over by others in our procession.

We walked through a few library areas, and up a few flights of stairs. As we passed various rooms and areas I was told what or who would be inside, but I wouldn't remember any of the specifics until I had a chance to use the space and explore on my own. What did stick was that most of the classrooms were next to the libraries and the labs were near the offices.

Yamuraiha must have heard our group from down the hall because her head popped out from one of the rooms ahead of us. "What is going on out here??” Then she made eye contact with me. "It's you!!"

That made me smile. I fought back responding 'it's me!' like I would with my friends. "I'm Mori. I'm glad I'm finally getting the chance to meet you, Yamuraiha!” I stopped walking when I got 3 yards/meters away.

She immediately pulled her staff against her chest with both hands. Her shoulders tensed but she had an enthusiastic smile. "The pleasure is all mine!"

Yamuraiha was amazing, smart, and endearing. I really wanted to be friends with her.

I out stretched my hand to shake hers. "I'm really excited to work with you, and learn more about magic even though I'm not a magician."

"The feeling is mutual!” She took my hand more than matching my excitement. And when she released it said, "Since you're here, would you like to see what we've been working on from the scrolls you gave us?"

"Yes please!”

---

The lab she lead us to was a little down the hall. All of my scrolls were spread out on one table and a bunch of notes and different materials were on an other.

Yamuraiha pulled out parchment that had a complicated magic circle written on it. "We can't do much yet, and it still takes a catalyst and many magicians at once to control the amount of magoi safely but our alchemy magic has made a breakthrough from your writing."

She asked a few of the magicians that came with me to join her. They pointed their staffs and wands at the magic cycle. A large crystal in the room started glowing, and the Rukh lit up the space from within the circle. Specks were pulled out of the pile of ingredients nearby -dirt, scraps paper, a small potted plant- and gathered at the center of the circle. The light got too bright for me to look straight at it and when it faded there was a small dark grey cube in the middle of the circle. It looked like a die with no markings.

Yam explained. "After reading about 'atoms' and 'bonds' in your scrolls it was like finding the missing piece. It will still be a long time before we can perfect the process, and we still can't make anything bigger than this yet, but soon we will be able to make anything we want!"

((In the future I intend to: reference more old memes, describe more of my experience with synesthesia, and explain more basic history and science. SO you all have been warned lol))

I had to respond; I couldn't just continue staring in awe. When I tried to answer I ended up gasping since had forgotten to breathe. I chuckled at my own shock as well as the situation. I looked up at them. "You're all amazing to be able to develop this already from the little I wrote!" I looked back at the stone. "I knew I wrote the keys to Yunan's signature alchemy magic in those scrolls, but to think you've already gotten this far with it -its amazing."

With this -when developed farther- we could make certain materials without having to worry about the pollution, and break things down easily so we won't have to worry about garbage piling up everywhere.

"Did you say Yunan? The Magi, Yunan?" Yamuraiha looked at me with wide eyes.

"Yes." It was my turn to explain. "Yunan is able to use alchemy magic like this on a grand scale. In the Fates I read he will have reason to visit Sindria in about 2 years. He creates a cabin and food in the middle of the Palace court yard so he has somewhere comfortable to stay."

The bird in the window ruffled it's feathers.

"Yunan explains the basic concept of how that magic works when asked, and since I know the science of the physical world I know the details to what he was talking about." My smile widened. "I hope my notes were easy to understand. Please let me know if you have any questions."

#magi prophet fanfic #magi fanfiction #magi fanfic #sinbad magi #king sinbad #magi sinbad #sinbadxoc

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redmaneroster · 4 years ago

Text

Our Home Away From Home, Away From Home

[1] [2] [3] [x-x] [6] [7] [8-9] [10]

PART 4 – Coping

Qrow isn't exactly the intimidating uncle so much as he is the nervous older friend. Sure, he comes in with cheek and swagger, but he hesitates sometimes and watches what he says. Things are uncomfortable for a while.

Jaune and Qrow are sitting alone on the sofa, eyes passed the TV and out the window. Jaune breaks the silence and asks him how he knew. Qrow, surprisingly, explains that he turned into a bird and followed them home. He fully intended to leave when they got into the door but then he overheard the bit about Ruby going missing so he sat by the window and waited for updates.

He fell asleep on the windowsill.

Yang's moaning woke him up.

Both men don't even dare look each other in the eye. They both agree not to bring that up with her for as long as they live.

It's minutes later after they've both taken a swig from their flasks that Qrow asks, "So what are you two?"

"I don't know," he answers; almost apologetic. Almost fearful, but not of Qrow. "We're close and trying to… forget things."

"Yeah, I can see that." Qrow takes another swig. "Tell me, is this about Tai and Rae?"

"More than a little, yeah."

"Those two idiots aren't the least bit careful anymore… I'm sorry she's lumping it onto you. If I'd done better, none of this would have happened."

"I don't mind just listening to her."

"I know. It's the fact that she has to go through it at all… She's still in school. Distractions are dangerous when you're still fresh on the hunt."

Jaune laughs. "She's been doing this for years. If anything, I'm the one that's still green."

"You runts don't get to be proper huntsmen unless you've faced a real, proper threat or graduated. To a licensed huntsman, there's a reason why you're all still in-training. All the glory and shit is the stuff you gotta revel in while you're still in the safety of these halls instead of roughing it in the wilds day after day, facing odds stacked against you."

Qrow is amicable, asking only that he doesn't also seduce Ruby. Jaune's confusion is answer enough. He's no Casanova. He isn't Taiyang. Qrow has it that he believes men like him are unprepared as partners and fathers. Jaune disagrees, saying that his own father was like Tai. To him, any man can work their way into being a proper partner.

They talk about it for long enough that Yang stumbles back into the apartment. She hopes Qrow hasn't spilled any embarrassing stories about her.

They're deftly quiet at that.

-0-

Yang doesn't stay long (it isn't like she spends every weekend with him after all), but she lingers at the door. She hears their muffled voices through the gaps but she doesn't strain her ears to decipher them. She isn't here to eavesdrop.

She hears them laugh. Briefly, she wonders if even Qrow knows Jaune more than she does.

Breathing evenly, she calms the fiery doubts and walks off.

-0-

"What are your intentions?" Qrow asks an hour later, once he's sure Yang is long gone because of course he knows when she's there.

"We didn't sleep together."

Qrow winces at the thought of them. Then it's so deeply uncomfortable that his whole body shudders. "Ah, god, fuck! Damn it, kid, I don't want to think about you two naked! How would you feel if I shared my stories with you!"

Jaune, similarly, melts down at the thought.

Yang actually comes back because she forgot Ember Celica. She hears them freaking out through the door and pivots into the other direction. Blake asks about her bracelets. Yang says it isn't important right now.

-0-

Jaune and Qrow sip their flasks at the same time. They joke about it.

When it's quieter, Qrow can see in his eyes that he wants to ask something so he encourages him to.

Jaune, with an uneasy breath, asks what Qrow is always drinking to forget.

Turns out, he doesn't drink to forget. Drinking is when he does the most thinking, actually.

Drinking is a hobby. Less a recreational drug and more a medicinal one. "Confused? Let me explain…" He doesn't recommend it but he's built up such a tolerance for it before he even went to be Beacon as a kid that it's all basically like water to him. Alcohol isn't his coping mechanism, but he confesses that he does technically have one if it can be called that.

He lost an old friend a long time ago and he isn't sure if his semblance is to blame. The thought has haunted him since. Grief mixed so deeply with poisoned guilt has made him obsessed with loneliness.

He enjoys the quiet nights sitting alone at home, eying the moon, dreaming of what ifs. He enjoys sitting in meadows, letting Summer heat hold him like a familiar embrace. He enjoys hunting solo and coming out on top, all in her name. It's proof that, even in death, she's still the best partner he ever had.

Alcohol is normalcy. It's where he thinks the most clearly, acts the most boldly, acts like himself. Being sober unsettles his mind, makes him act irrationally.

Somehow it makes sense. He always did seem the more sober man when he's got a flask in his hand. Even subconsciously, Jaune realizes that he's made that his gospel.

Qrow warns that it certainly isn't the same way with Jaune. (Jaune knows, of course. His tolerance is likely as weak Ruby's might be.) But Qrow confesses to being more worried about what he might do if he drinks too much. He saw all the whiskey in the fridge.

"I'm not going to hurt Yang. I stop myself from going too far."

"I don't mean Yang. She can handle herself around you, I'm sure." Qrow shows him a photo on his scroll. "This is what I'm worried about."

Jaune reels. He feels a few things. Mostly anguish, discomfort. Saphron and Terra are in Vale.

"When was this?"

"This morning. I thought they'd show up today and that I could be your convenient alibi for having an occupied guest room once they dropped in, but it looks they're busy doing whatever it is they're actually supposed to be doing in the city."

"They're going to come by eventually. Even if not today then…"

"I can't stay, kid," Qrow says, cautiously, quietly. "You facing them is just as inevitable as their visit. I'm no good at this stuff but... my advice: Don't run."

-0-

Yang comes back to Jaune sat at the sofa, staring at a movie he isn't watching. Yang turns it off and when the screen buzzes into silence, Jaune finally realizes she's in the room.

He doesn't notice the many bags she brought with her.

When she asks what's going on, he tells her that Terra is in town.

Yang asks if Saphron is with her.

He realizes that he forgot to mention his own sister.

Yang takes his hand and leans into his side. "It's that bad, huh?"

His free hand pulls out the now empty flask. "I might need more than the watered down whiskey."

She sits on his lap and pushes his flask away. "Get drunk on me." Her eyes are half-lidded and pleading, a promise etched into the wetness of her lips and heat rolling off her breath.

He does what she asks.

They press together so closely that he feels another one of inhibitions snap.

That night he decides – without really thinking about why – to steal a kiss while she sleeps. He realizes that the gesture is far too affectionate than it should be but can't bring himself to regret it.

She was awake the whole time.

-0-

PART 5 – Accommodation

Yang fixates on the kiss. Not that it's changed how she feels or how she's going to feel, only that she wonders what's changed for him with her. She finds herself lingering on his silhouette in bed, paying attention to subtleties in his tone, the way he moves around her or if he catches himself saying anything he wants to say but can't.

And all she's found in mapping him out is that he's no different from before.

Blake tells her that it could mean any number of things. Weiss maintains that it has to be burgeoning love. Ruby, much to their surprise, tells them that it was probably a moment of weakness and that he probably still doesn't know what it means.

The girls – Pyrrha included – suggest that Ruby is probably right. But Yang finds herself unwilling to accept it. She isn't one for sitting still. So instead of deferring to their wisdom… she hatches a plan.

It falls apart immediately.

-0-

Lingerie is her first idea, a vibrant red with thin enough material to tear off with ease. Scented candles to fill the spaces, lighting the bed and the nightstands while drowning the rest in dark. A nice ambient drone off the speakers in another room just to fill any silence. And makeup, the kind that layers thick and she feels physically on her face but comes recommended from Coco's article on a magazine.

She calls up Pyrrha to coach her on it, but the girl only blinks at her beyond the digital lense and asks, "Do you want him to sleep with you or fall in love?"

At first, Yang is confused until she takes a good hard look at herself in the mirror and… doesn't recognize who's looking back at her.

"I don't know," she says honestly. She smiles placatively and hangs up. Pyrrha knows she'll figure it out, but Yang has to first get rid of the mess she's made in his bedroom. Everything else will follow after.

She tosses the heels in the bin (they were cheap anyway), rips off her stockings, and covers up the rest in a bath robe. She tries to wash off the makeup but it smears and will take longer than she has time for. She tries too frantically to get the candles out and accidentally sets fire to one of his chairs – she ends up violently launching it into the tiled shower wall and leaves the shower running.

Finally was the music wafting in from the living room, playing off her scroll. She's already halfway into the living room when the front door opens. She freezes in place just as Jaune is letting in his guests, Saphron and Terra.

Yang doesn't know Saphron, not really, but there's a mutual trust between them when the older girl runs over to her, takes her by the wrist, and drags her back into Jaune's room.

Minutes later, Saphron is dabbing some solution on her cheeks. The makeup comes off in clumps – some semblance of relief comes with them.

"I'm Yang," she says suddenly.

Saphron's bemused smile banishes any tension she has left. Yang already embarrassed herself and not much could make it worse at this point when your first impression is half naked in the living room. She'd also spied the lingerie but she'd thankfully neglected to mention the familiar strap peeking off her shoulder.

"Saphron," she says but says no more. She focuses on the task at hand and Yang quiets with her. Then Saphron starts humming. It's familiar, as if carved out of a chapter in her life that she can hardly remember. Suddenly it's clear that this woman is a mother.

"My brother mention me a lot?" Saphron asks.

"He tries not to but can't help it. You always manage to come up in his stories to curb his nonsense. You'd be a punchline if the stories were supposed to be funny."

"Tends to happen." Saphron winks. "Us older sisters have to butt in all the time."

"He told you about me and Ruby?" She wasn't expecting to come up in conversation.

"No… I can just tell." Another smile. More secretly knowing. And she is briefly afraid that all her secrets have already been laid bare. "He told me you were his roommate."

"Ah." A safe descriptor. She'd been expecting a cover story like being his live-in girlfriend. She'd even prepared the lines and a backstory. It's a small a comfort that doesn't have to go through that.

Saphron pouts for a moment before her eyes turn devilish. "He also mentioned that you two share a bed and make out." Yang blinks at her. Her confusion also confuses Saphron. Isn't that supposed to be embarrassing? "Is… was he wrong?"

"Uh… no. That's exactly it. I guess I just wasn't expecting the truth."

"And you really aren't sleeping together?" Saphron peels the gown off her shoulder and tugs at the bra strap. Yang yelps when it snaps back into place. "With an outfit like this?"

"It was a lapse in judgement." She gestures to herself. "I swear this isn't how I normally am. I don't think I'll ever put on something like this ever again."

"Hm… a honeymoon might change your mind, but let's not dwell on that. You've got scented candles in the corner and I can smell…" – she sniffs the air – "burnt wood from the bathroom? What led to all this?"

"I'm… not sure I should say."

Saphron takes Yang's hands in hers. "You don't have to tell me, but it feels like you're struggling with something all on your own."

"I'm not, actually," she admits sheepishly. "I just didn't take anyone's advice. I don't like the idea of waiting for something to happen when I can already do something about it."

"There is value in patience."

"I don't think waiting is my problem. I think I'm just too proactive to do nothing."

"My brother leave you hanging or something?"

"Kind of? … I've said too much already."

"Or not enough." She smiles in that way again. As if knowing. "But I won't pry. I know that sometimes it's better to wait and come to your own conclusions. Right or wrong, a decision you make yourself stays with you and sometimes that's more valuable than being handed the keys to the castle."

"You really think highly of Jaune, don't you?"

"Hm? What makes you say that?"

"I've never heard someone describe the way to someone's heart as 'keys to a castle'."

Saphron gives her a catty cheek. "Oh, so you are in love with him." But she is surprised again when Yang doesn't blush.

She shrugs instead, looking away. Not out of embarrassment but to eye her own fragmentary reflection on the corner of the vanity's mirror. "I wouldn't know. I've never been in love before."

"But… you're so pretty."

"So is Jaune. So is my sister. And all but one of my roommates have never even kissed anyone before coming to Beacon. It isn't like we don't have time to fall in love, it's just not always our biggest concern. They drill it in you early that staying alive out there should be your priority." She eyes the bra strap on her shoulder in the mirror, hates what it represents, what it almost made her do. She pulls up the sleeve again, hiding it away, and she almost looks like herself. "I think that's why I like being around him. He doesn't pass judgement on whether not my problems are big or small. He just knows they're important to me and lets me be heard."

"Is being a good listener what you look for in a partner?"

"It might." She laughs. "It's hardly an extensive list, though, isn't it?"

Saphron huffs, settling herself comfortably beside her and dusting off her skirt. "Lists are overrated. Not that you shouldn't have standards, but if you want to extensively checklist every potential partner, you'll end up with a growing criteria less and less people will be able to fill. And trust me, I've lived a storied life – been dating people since I was fifteen – and I've found that it's easier to talk to people and let things click. Hell, I wasn't even trying to flirt with Terra when we first met. She was the wingwoman to the girl I was actually trying to get with and we just happened to get along better."

"Sounds like quite the story."

"Why don't I tell you over dinner? It'd be a nice little preamble to me and Terra. I suspect we'll be meeting quite often in the near future."

"I guess I will be tagging along with Jaune if you really want me to."

"If I really want you to? You sound a little meek there," Saphron teases. "Jaune described you as the kind of girl with confidence to rival a peacock. Was my brother wrong or are you just starting to sound like him?"

"Hey, I don't…! Oh shit, you're right."

"Fair tradeoff, I suppose. Jaune's got peacock confidence now and I guess you're to blame."

"Ha! No, I can't take credit for that. Pyrrha – his ex – I'm sure she's your culprit."

"We've met. Jaune brought her over last year before they started dating. Wasn't even going to take her to the dance, the little dunce."

"Oh, but they hooked up that night! After they both showed up stag and he tore up the dance floor in a dress."

"A DRESS!?" Saphron screamed, her eyes lighting up with mischief Yang realizes she's just armed her with.

A knock at the door. "Everything alright in there?" Jaune asks, muffled through the mahogany.

"We're fine!" Yang says.

"Peachy, little brother," Saphron adds with a flare of sarcasm, "but you're going to regret keeping secrets from me."

"Yang!" Jaune screeches, panicked. "What did you tell her?"

Yang laughs, hearty and comfortable with Saphron snickering beside her. It almost feels right, like it's something that always should have been, and she wonders why she was ever so afraid. "What you should have told her! You know you can't keep secrets from big sisters!"

"Oh really? I can promise you that there are secrets Ruby hasn't told you."

Yang shot up from her seat. "What!?"

Saphron sits back. "Aren't you two lively…" she whispers.

"I'm no snitch, Xiao Long!" Jaune shouts, snark clear in his voice.

"You'll fess up one way or another!" Yang, in her excitement, marches to the door.

Saphron bolts out of her place and grabs her arm. "You're still underdressed," she says calmly, belying the panic quickened in her chest.

Yang looks down at herself. She's showing a little cleavage too with the loosened bath robe. She takes an extra step back for good measure and clutches the lapels closed.

"C'mon. You're looking a little too comfortable now. Let's find you something modest." Saphron tugs her towards the closet.

"Backing down already?" Jaune said in what – to him – was a moment of silence.

"I'll get you yet, Vomit Boy!" Yang jeers.

Saphron perks up. "Vomit Boy?"

Jaune groans behind the door. "Yang!"

Yang, despite the grin tugging at her cheeks, silently promises to make it up to him later.

-0-

Jaune stands in the center of his living room, staring at his shut door. Saphron has just dragged Yang into it, and his mind has been reeling with what he'd seen. Barely dressed, slow music off her scroll, and with smeared makeup on? He doesn't want to come to any conclusions, not without talking to her first, but the obvious ones come to mind.

He isn't certain he can reckon with the inevitable outcome.

Behind him, Terra sensibly cuts off Yang's music playing off her scroll. Jaune nearly jumps when he's brought out of his stupor and into her beautiful, suffocating presence. Terra is still as captivating as he remembers, tinted with the gloss of a boyhood crush that refuses to die. At least with Saphron around he could suffuse it, but not alone in the heavy quiet of his apartment.

Terra gives him a bemused smile. Ever sympathetic. She pats the seat cushion beside her and Jaune joins her, plopping on the cushion with a held breath he eases out of himself.

"You seem surprised," Terra says. "And here I thought you'd already seen her in less."

"I did say we've only made out… and snuggled." He can't decide which one is more scandalous. Perhaps neither. Or both, given that they aren't even dating.

"Yeah, despite that being unusual enough to be true, I still had my doubts."

"Have any still?"

"No. You definitely don't look like the kind of couple that's seen each other naked."

Jaune's eyes narrow. "We're not a couple."

"I believe you," she says with a smile. She's so dangerously close to him that he can smell her perfume. A glance shows him that she's eying him expectantly. He's tense, uncertain, and it's clear that she can see that. She pulls away, giving him room to breathe. "Guessing you've still got a crush on me then?"

His spine gets stiffer, spotting her at the corner of his eye because he refuses to look directly at her. She's smiling still. Being cheeky. "Terra…" he groans.

She scooches a little closer again (taking a chance that his nerves might not erupt), and lets his heat wash over her and lets him feel hers. The affection is platonic, he knows that. He and his sisters huddle together for comfort often, and Terra has just learned to follow suit. But he can't help but revel in it, letting it sink into his pores till it leaves a familiar tingle.

A small part of him hates it but mostly hates himself for indulging.

"If I asked you why, would you tell me?" Her tone is quiet, almost a whisper. She's trying to ease him.

"Because you cared about me."

She chuckles because it's naïve and honest and oh so very like him that it's almost nostalgic. "Was that really all?"

"When you're young and naïve, that's all it takes."

"I didn't know you were lonely."

It was his turn to chuckle. "I wasn't. I was never some lonely little kid who didn't have any friends. I had enough love from my sisters alone to fill my heart a hundred times over."

"Then why?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Do I need to have been missing something in my life to want to fall in love?"

Her feet shuffles in place. "I guess I haven't seen it that way. After I was old enough to date, I'd not gone a year without someone I wanted to be with or was already with. I always felt like love completed me, like it does now with Saph… Is that not how you feel?"

"I'm… I'm not saying love doesn't make me happy or anything. It's just that I don't feel like I need it to feel whole. I don't think it'd complete me, just that it might be nice to have too. Is that not how you feel?"

She chuckles again, a nervous uncertainty tinting her quiet, teahouse melody. "I don't know. Never been without it, really. At least not for long."

He looks at her – examines her, really – because her cheek is gone, as is her confidence, and it feels like she's revealing her artifice in a vulnerable moment. She's digging gaps into her own thoughts and he can see her pick apart her own internal logic and she seems more and less somehow. Like she's less the perfect cut gem he thought she was and sees the girl underneath it.

He's less tense all of a sudden.

And for a moment he feels like he can come to grips with everything that she is. Who she was to him, who she wasn't, and who she's become. A boyhood crush, flightful fantasy, and… he can't bring himself to think of the last. Fist clenching and unclenching, a slow motion that tries to hide the trembling in his digits.

He swallows and he worries if she can hear it. She doesn't, but she can see something's troubling him.

"How's Adrian?" he asks.

"Oh, he's –"

"A DRESS!?" Saphron screams from beyond the locked bedroom door.

Jaune jolts up from his seat and nearly bumps into Terra who'd stood along with him. She steps aside and he hurries to the door, asking after them. Terra tries not to pay attention (she can barely hear what they say beyond the door anyhow) but then he mentions Yang's sister, Ruby – the girl Terra thought he actually has a crush on – and Yang audibly shouts, "What!?" passed the door at him.

"Aren't you two lively…" Terra whispers.

-0-

Dinner is a largely pleasant affair until the alcohol gets introduced. The hills of drink they stack onto the table to peruse intimidates Jaune and he cautions that he cannot – will not – drink anything that isn't at least on the rocks. He'll shoulder tomorrow's regret but he doesn't want to sleep through the sun burning through the morning and afternoon.

Saphron and Terra share a glance before pulling something out of Terra's bag. Diadem, a vintage Vacuan drink stronger than everything else on the table. They only ask that he a takes a shot. It'll buzz him through the evening.

It's too strong and he nearly hurls.

Yang half remembers all the stories they tell. Saphron regales them with tales of how she met Terra, the proposal, the wedding, and even the honeymoon off the coast of Menagerie. Jaune spouts on about his team and a misadventure with his twin on an old farm and a horse, and Yang, somehow, talks about a food fight twice. It's funnier the second time around.

There's a gap in her memory of whatever story Terra was telling because she fixates on one part and can't focus on anything else. "…she's little Adrian's babysitter," she mentions briefly but doesn't have the faculties to ask about.

When Saph and Terra leave for their hotel, things wind down and Yang's sitting on the sofa in Jaune's hoodie. Yang returns the shirt and shorts she borrowed but she feels like wearing something that's his might help with tonight.

Jaune joins her, easing down slowly as his head rides the waves of a dying Vacuan storm.

"Who's Adrian?" she asks.

He's quiet for a moment, perhaps from the drink. "He's Terra's son."

Yang can see it. Saphron isn't mentioned deliberately. He doesn't just forget this time. "Oh! From a previous marriage?"

He shakes his head. "No, nothing like that," he says, sobering up.

"A previous partner then?"

Jaune says nothing. He's sitting upright. Rigid and awake. There's something there. Maybe Terra had a previous partner he didn't like, but then things click into place. Realization sets in like headlights through the fog, suddenly and violently.

"Oh my god…" she whispers, "…he's yours."

He doesn't answer. Doesn't need to. She grabs onto his arm and pulls him into a hug. She's hit a nail on the head and panic sets in when she thinks she's opened up an old wound. It's precisely the kind of thing they're supposed to help each other forget. Only, Yang doesn't realize that Jaune is so caught off-guard by her sudden burst of affection that he's at first startled and – when she goes in for a kiss and ends up headbutting him instead – he ends up laughing it off.

His mirth is almost strange until it makes complete sense somehow. She's done her job, kept her end of the bargain, and now she's laughing with him too.

When he's calmed down, he lies back on the sofa when she goes to get a drink. She comes back to find him lying across the sofa and she makes the executive decision to just fall on top of him. She crashes into his stomach with a hefty oof from him and she makes no apologies for retaliating.

"Sofa hog," she jeers from her perch on his chest, chin resting on her arms.

"I bought it," he shoots back playfully, eying her down from the arm rest.

"Still pay half the rent. And I never asked you to pay me back when I foot the bill for refurbishing them."

"Wouldn't have needed to if Zwei didn't tear them up."

"It was a joint decision that we took him in for the week. You're as much to blame."

He sighs. "I guess I am."

It isn't actually an issue. They've basically already had this discussion and Yang had insisted on covering for it at the time. They're only stalling. Even Yang isn't quite sure she wants to go on.

She doesn't know how long it takes her to summon the courage to speak again. All she knows is that he's willing to answer, even if it would be easier for both of them to stay ignorant. To let these problems solve themselves and never to bear your heart until it is absolutely necessary.

But she speaks anyway. "I thought it was the wedding that got to you."

And so does he. "No, it… it just happened at the wedding. Saph had to go talk to an old classmate and so she left Terra with me. I was already holding Adrian and with Joan running off somewhere, we were alone. Just me, Terra… and our son. It hit me then. Slowly, like when you stare at yourself in the mirror at the night of a recital. You think, 'This is it. This is where things fall apart… or meet in the middle.' I knew I had to make peace with it before it got worse."

"And your answer was watered-down whiskey the minute you got back home?"

He shrugs. "Qrow gives good advice."

"Hm… maybe. I still think mine is better."

"Oh? And what's that?"

She pushes herself up over him, arms at either side of his head till her silhouette is against the dim glow of the incandescent bulb, warm light pooling through her hair till it looks like it's on fire. "Get drunk on me," she says, her breath tickling his nose and burning his lips.

But he doesn't kiss her. She sees the way his lips quiver, almost wanting to, but he doesn't even try.

She retreats instead, nestling back onto his chest but his cheeks are still burning and she swears hers are too. The room feels like it's boiling.

"When we kiss, do you think of her?"

"Never," he says honestly, and that seems to be the part that stings the most to him. "That's the most dangerous thing about you. You don't taste, feel, or smell like anyone else." He looks at her and only her, and she shrinks away as she gets up and off of him because she feels like a moon in a sea of stars, and as he straightens up and sits parallel to her, his eyes never leave, like a captive witness.

He leans in, and she doesn't know if it's to kiss her or just her sheer pull on him. She ultimately doesn't decide. Their foreheads meet – her eyes are downward but locked to his lips – and she breathes quietly as she asks, "Jaune? Are you in love with me?"

"Yang, are you even sure you are?"

"I… don't know yet."

He pulls away just an inch as something unsettling furrows his brow.

He gets up. "Gimme a minute," he says, and he's gone for just long enough for her to notice that the familiar heat she had pressed against her is missing.

She doesn't know what to expect when he comes back with his hand clutching a small object, but she would have never guessed a ring. It's nestled in a velvety box that he sits on the coffee table and he leaves it open as he sits down and watches it with her like it's some alien thing. He doesn't speak but he gives her a glance and…

It's then that she realizes that she's afraid. The look on her is uncertain – she can feel it, and she feels it freeze on her features.

"Did you pick this out for me?"

He shakes his head. "It was supposed to be Pyrrha's."

She blinks. "Is… is this what scared Pyrrha off?"

"No… it's what scared me off." He leans back against the sofa and she takes that as an invitation to do the same. They're huddled close, shoulder-to-shoulder. "Our breakup was only supposed to be temporary. Some tournament rival tried to pin her to a scandal when they found out she slept with me."

"What? Why would that be a problem?"

He snorts. "I was too young." Out loud, it sounds absurd.

"You were seventeen," she reasons.

"And Pyrrha was eighteen. As far as the law is concerned, Pyrrha slept with a minor."

Yang can feel herself coil up like a loaded spring. "Well, that's fucked! You're barely three months apart!"

"Didn't matter to them. Tabloids would have pinned it on her for the rest of her career. The context doesn't matter to the public."

"Okay…" she says slowly, stifling her frustrations for later. "So, what changed then? Why did you set her up with Sun?"

"Because I went to the wedding and found myself thinking about Terra again. It gave me some unhealthy doubts. I loved Pyrrha, I really did, but it felt wrong when I danced with Terra that night, holding our son in our arms… It felt like I'd betrayed Pyrrha somehow, even in my own mind, by feeling those things. It didn't matter that I didn't actually do anything about it."

"That's not how feelings work though," she says. "You're supposed to have doubts sometimes because people aren't perfect or consistent. Life isn't fiction, Jaune."

"I know that now." He shrugs, resigned in a way. "I found out a little too late though."

"How did you even get Pyrrha to agree to this?"

"She's not very honest about her feelings. Doesn't have the courage to be. When she heard that I'd pushed Sun to ask her out because Nora can't keep a secret, she thought that I might have given up on her. By the time we got the chance to be honest about it, she'd already gotten to know Sun enough to start taking him seriously."

Yang glances back at the ring. Not quite as alien as it was earlier. It just seems strange now, like it's out of place. There's a small comfort in that. "So where does the ring come in?"

"I got it as a sort of celebration when would get back together, but then people started asking about what it meant and… it felt like I'd stumbled onto some finality between us. Like I'd somehow found 'the one' over a year of friendship, a few dates, and showing up to the dance in a dress."

Yang smiles. Not because he seemed silly at the time, but because he's smiling. Because, in spite of his somber reflections, he can't help but feel like what he'd done turned out to be a triumph.

Her arm loops into his and his head leans on hers in response. "Doesn't sound like a bad set up to me," Yang says, shrugging against his arm. "If anything, it sounds like the stars aligned for you two." She speaks honestly. Forgets herself and sees him as Pyrrha's too-perfect other half to a too-perfect couple. If things hadn't turned out the way they did, she might have cheered them on for the rest of their lives. But that isn't how it turned out.

"That's what everyone was saying. It's like we'd ripped ourselves out of a fairytale, only I was a dense, blind princess and she was some stoic, stubborn prince. But it put a lot of pressure on us, living up to that story, and it felt like I wasn't as ready as I should have been. I came to Beacon unprepared for a lot of things. Might have hurt the people depending on me by not being ready. I was lucky my shield arm was always sturdy, but my heart wasn't. I naively worried that my inexperience would hurt us irreversibly." He rolls a hand over his knuckles. Contemplatively, regretfully. "I thought I was leaving her in good hands, but even if that's true, should I still have stayed instead? Did I have any right to decide if we should have stayed together or not?"

Her fingers slide off his arm and weave into his. She's huddling closer now, feet off the ground and knees tucked up to her chest. "I think, when we fall in love, we have to decide for ourselves if we want to keep going. We don't choose for the other in that. We choose for ourselves cause we are who we're supposed to look out for. You have to protect yourself first." Yang clutches tighter, and somehow Jaune can tell that her mother is involved. "That's the beautiful thing about a love that works. We decide for ourselves and it all just happens to fall into place with someone else. It doesn't always magically align – sometimes you don't agree with what they want or how they take it – but real love compromises just as much as it just… clicks." Like her and her dad. And Ruby. And maybe – if things turn out alright – her mom.

He wants to believe her. Even if he and Pyrrha didn't pan out, they still love each other as friends and things ultimately haven't changed between them. They were always bound to work out their issues and it's clear now that they've compromised without needing to sacrifice the friendship they'd fostered together.

He wants to thank her, but her eyes are away and she's chewing her lip. Yang is thinking of something else. Her sigh cuts through the silence and she's too shy to look at him.

"Jaune, why did you kiss me?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Last night. In bed. While I was sleeping."

His eyes widen. He's been caught. "Is it really so unusual?"

"It is when you aren't thinking of Terra or Adrian. When you do it just because you wanted to."

"How… how could you tell?"

She can hear the panic in his voice. Caught and cornered, it makes her a little happy to know he's unable to hide it. But it's the speed of which he accepts his fate that gets her grinning, because it's as if a part of him is tired of hiding it. "Because you weren't trying to forget something. You weren't trying to tease me and I certainly can't flirt back when I'm asleep…" She shoots him a knowing look and he gulps through a feeble foundation of defiance. "It was none of that. You did it hoping I wouldn't notice. You did it because you were hiding something you wanted."

He crumbles under her teasing. "Y-Yang, I… I can't –"

"Shh, it's okay," she says evenly, defusing his tension and giving him a moment to breathe and look into her eyes. "Don't jump to a conclusion you aren't ready to make." Her tone is slow and deliberate, fingers gliding along the skin of his arm like a soothing, gentle caress. "I get it, Jaune. Like me, you're still trying to figure it out."

He pulls away but fixes her with a stern, serious look. She doesn't realize he's holding her hand till he's squeezing it. He's composed, certain, and so deftly drunk on her that Yang remembers Jaune telling her that drowning in drink gives him clarity. "That's just it, Yang. I know I feel something. I've been feeling a lot of things when I'm with you…" His confidence wanes before he admits that, "It's just that I haven't figured out what I'm supposed to do about it."

Yang blinks twice and tries to speak but can't. And suddenly she can't stop the curl of her cheeks when she feels a growing smile coming.

He's almost afraid. "Yang?"

"Sorry. I'm still… you know you just confessed, right?"

"Ha!" he laughs, heart squeezing his chest. Relief in many ways settling into his skin. "Were you expecting me to say 'I love you'?"

"…"

He chuckles. "Oh my god, Yang."

"Is it weird that I'm a little giddy about that total cliché? Say it again."

He thinks it a little much but the words are easy, flowing freely from his lips. "I love you."

"Agh! You're a serious cheat. Why is it so easy for you to say?'

"Cause I already made peace with it. You stood there in a white dress and I could see you tearing Terra out of that place in my mind and putting yourself there in her stead. I already knew. You've been nothing but a tidal wave to my emotions, just swallowing everything up and leaving little traces of yourself everywhere."

He settles back into the cushions, sinking comfortably into it. "I used to sit on this couch and scream curses at the moon through the window," he says. "Nowadays my eyes are glued to the screen watching a movie with you. I used to be careful about what I threw into the sink because I was afraid I'd have to call in a mechanic to fix the shredder again, and now I don't even give it a second thought."

"And you used to lie in bed thinking about her…" Yang teases.

"Actually, no. I was at peace when I went to bed. Pyrrha trained me to shut down once I got under the sheets. Nowadays it feels like the sandman keeps missing my eyes with the way you move me around in bed."

"I don't think your tongue's been doing much complaining."

"Seems you were willing to use more than just your tongue earlier," he says, teasing her. She shrinks a little, embarrassed. "What were you doing anyway?"

"I was, uh, trying to seduce you."

"Oh… What changed?"

She groans. "I guess my wires got crossed. I thought that if I got you to sleep with me, this" – she gestures between them – "would suddenly clear up. But I'm not that kind of girl. I don't put on lingerie all the time expecting you to see it. Not even sure I'm the kind of girl who wants her clothes ripped off when I get you riled up."

"Yeah, your outfits look expensive. Custom fit and embroidered."

"I wouldn't hit you if you tried, FYI. I'd maybe cry or get upset."

"I'll try not to ravage you through your clothes if that ever happens."

"If? Still don't think we're gonna end up doing the dirty tango after all we've been through? Seems inevitable at this point."

"I think we'll either do it when it makes sense or decide we aren't meant for each other."

"I don't know. I'm pretty snug right where I am." She gives him cheek, brimming with certainty. Confidence. "Still," she says more seriously, "are you really so ready to give up what we have? I don't see it happening, but it looks like you think we're just as likely to stay together as splitting up."

He looks away. Yang is surprised to find him embarrassed, not concerned.

"You don't actually feel that way," Yang says gleefully. "You're as sure as I am."

"I'm not ready to take that risk just yet," he confesses.

She moves to straddle him and loops her arms around his neck. "I can wait."

His hands grip her waist through the thickness of the hoodie. "I can't ask you to do that."

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. I told you that love was about deciding for yourself and settling into compromises if our choices don't align. I'm choosing to stay. And – I hope – we agree to compromise."

He takes a moment to look away before locking eyes with her. He leans in and pecks her lips so briefly that she doesn't get the chance to kiss back.

"Wh-what?"

"It's how I'm supposed to say yes, aren't I?"

She laughs and so does he. Yang was expecting to cap off the night with a kiss, pressing bodily into the sheets as their hands roam their bodies, but none of that happens. They clean the dinner the table, take separate baths, and settle into bed together.

She does kiss him on the neck for good measure but he realizes that he can still feel the kiss and it isn't because there's a tingle there. Cracking an eye open, he notices the gloss on her lips. "Are you wearing lipstick?"

"The light kind," she says. "Told myself I'd leave a mark on you during my little lapse earlier. I've decided not to give you a hickey. Consider it an act of mercy."

He shuts his eyes and tries to ignore it but can't. He's painfully aware of it and he just knows he's gonna smudge that on something. It'd be funny if it's Yang's face but he'd hate to get it on his sheets. He sits up. "Yeah, nope. I'm washing this off."

"What? C'mon!" She grabs onto him, anchoring him back into bed.

"Nope. Not doing it," he says defiantly.

"Have it your way, Arc. Hickey it is!"

"Wait, Yang! Yang!"

-0-

Jaune is reminded everyday that he showed up to brunch that following morning with a hickey his scarf couldn't hide. Yang makes it up to him by buying dessert.

The get-togethers go on and Yang is less and less embarrassed about openly teasing Jaune and showing her affections publicly. Jaune retaliates, of course, and they even get hot and bothered in the hallway of a movie theater. They spend the rest of the movie in a stall. Terra finds them and is honestly just surprised they haven't taken each other's clothes off… ever.

Jaune and Yang don't tell them that neither of them and ready to go that far yet. Jaune takes the brunt of the blame and says that if he doesn't hold back, they'll end up doing something stupid. Saphron slips Jaune a condom and he regrets everything for the rest of the night.

Two weeks pass with much the same. Sometimes they introduce Saphron and Terra to some of their other friends, and they even manage a weekend together in a cottage near the coast. They're excited about reuniting with Pyrrha and they even meet Sun on her scroll.

Yang finds out that Saphron is every bit a mother as she is a big sister, and Jaune reminds her that she is practically no different herself.

Jaune learns that Qrow and Terra are old classmates and that they had more in common than they thought.

And after Joan is caught scheming with Nora and getting her and Ren back together, after Blake engorges the shrimp platter on a Schnee-sponsored dinner, after Weiss tames a friendly rivalry between Winter and Saphron about who has the cuter sibling, after Ruby gets her cheeks pinched till they go red cause she lost a bet and showed up in an adorable beowulf costume, and after Penny freaks out and her head pops off at dinner (her severed head still tries to chew on a salad)… their two weeks together are up and they're standing at the train station, ready to see them off.

It's been raining for the last few days and everything is damp and cold. Even the air is still thick with the smell of misty rain water and the sky hasn't seen the sun even peek through the cloud cover. It's almost a somber way to say goodbye.

Saphron is introducing Yang to her babysitter and little Adrian over a video call. Jaune stands aside, unwilling to let the last few weeks burn away at the sight of his biological son gurgling through the screen.

Terra nudges into his side. "Can we talk?"

He nods and she pulls them away beside a pillar. Saphron notices and winks at her wife.

"Is there something wrong?" Jaune asks.

"Nothing, actually. I might even say our impromptu vacation here might as well have been perfect."

"Impromptu?"

"I guess it never came up but… we were only supposed to be here for a few days."

"Why did you stick around then? Wouldn't that have been imposing on your babysitter?"

"Oh, Taffy was plenty happy to be at the house with Adrian. She's an orphan and she takes every excuse to come over." She leans in to whisper. "We might even adopt her once I get a raise at the office so look forward to a niece! And, really, is it such a surprise that we enjoy spending time with you and your friends?"

"After the bonfire? I guess not."

"Good. Now that isn't why I needed to talk."

"Oh…" He glances at Yang a few feet away. He can barely hear her and Saphron through the rancor of the station.

"I know you've been holding back."

"Did Yang tell you that?"

"Call it a big sister's intuition."

"You're an only child."

"Not anymore, I'm not. Now I've got six little sisters and a not-so-little brother." She pats his chest then busies her hands with straightening his collar. "A little brother who is too afraid to take a chance and would much rather play it safe than play at all."

"Terra…"

"I know you're afraid that you aren't ready. I wasn't either. Hell, sometimes I worry I'll mess up and ruin a perfectly good marriage. These are all normal things to be afraid of, and for some people, these fears don't go away. We just learn to live with them."

She slides her hands to his arms and down to fingers till she's holding them softly and looking up at him. There's a quiet concern in her sad little smile that he isn't sure how to respond to.

"I think you've driven yourself to be so careful with your feelings that you've forgotten to just take things as they come," she says. "I know you have to be careful with your heart but the thing isn't made of glass. Even if it hurts, even if it hurts easily, the fact that you're still in one piece should be more than enough proof that you aren't as fragile as you think you are. Maybe take a risk. Maybe love will hurt, but so few of us get better at it without giving it a shot first. Like a lot of things, Jaune, it takes a lot of trial and error."

"I've been down this road before already…"

She squeezes his hands. "And you'll go down it again and again. Sometimes people find love once and that's all it takes. But for the rest of us? For most of us? We gotta keep trying."

With a kiss on the cheek and a whispered 'good luck', Saphron and Terra disappear into accelerating train until even it vanishes into the horizon.

Jaune stares into the middle distance and Yang, much like Terra, nudges into his side. "What did you talk about?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Stuff."

"Oh, well that's lame. Should've had more to say to someone you really care about." It's clear she doesn't buy it.

He knows she doesn't. "Yeah, real shame I wasn't more profound and emotional."

She rolls her eyes because she'll let it be and won't pry for his sake. "C'mon, it's getting chilly out here and it might rain again with the wind picking up." She makes to walk off.

"Hey, Yang?"

She stops. "Yeah?"

For a moment he doesn't speak, his eyes are uncertain and elsewhere but then his fists clench as if he's just convinced himself to do something. "Wanna get dinner?" he asks, reaching out to take her by the hand. "We can put on something nice and there's a real fancy place with the best lobster in town."

Yang isn't sure how to take it. She doesn't resist when his thumb brushes over her knuckles, but she summons a bit of bravery herself, stepping closer and resting a fist against her beating chest. "Is… this a date?"

She yelps when he pulls her in. He kisses her, drowns her tongue and melts their bodies together till she's flush against him and tugging at his hair. There's still fear in his eyes when they pull away, but there's a determination in there she's happy to see. "Is that answer enough?"

She giggles through the haze of her burning cheeks. "Plenty."

Then she's on him this time and tilting him backwards with her lips alone until he's just as hazy. Still, he doesn't expect it when she clambers onto his back and slips into a piggyback ride before she starts laughing uncontrollably.

"Hiya, noble steed! To the bike!" she cheers from her perch atop his head.

He's laughing too, even if he's huffing a little from the jog to Bumblebee. "What's gotten into you?"

"I can't help it…" she whispers into his hair, excitement mixing into a bubbling cocktail with a giddiness she can't stop. "I'm happy."

#Jaune Arc #yang xiao long #jaune x yang #yang x jaune #rwby dragonslayer

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 4 years ago

Text

the one with my favorite martian

AKA: J’onn’s intro the CAK ‘verse

*insert itsbeeneightfouryears.gif here* ...

THEN

It's her first big story.

The article runs on the front page of the business section—under the fold, sure, but still fairly prominent. The bold, black text of the headline runs half the width of the page, as does the large candid photo that accompanies the write-up. Kara's certain that the photo accounts for at least 70% of the attention the article has received over the course of the current news cycle; it's perfect. A shot that walks the fine line between candid and staged, capturing an otherwise unremarkable lab space and about a dozen lab techs on the move, dynamic as they go about their routine tasks, but at the center?

Dr. Kimiyo Hoshi, effortlessly commanding the room, unflappable and somehow radiant, in spite of the terrible fluorescent lighting.

Kara makes sure to highlight it at every opportunity. As her coworkers drop by her desk, offer congratulations, give her hearty slaps on the back (that result in more than a few confused murmurings—geez, Kent, you got...a solid shoulder there) she points to the photo, and reminds them, a picture's worth a thousand words. A response that charms a few of the staff writers, but incenses Perry.

“It's a good article, Kent. Wouldn't have run it on the front of the section if it wasn't,” he says with an almost paternal huff of exasperation. “Stop deflecting and just say, 'thank you.'”

So Kara does, if only to keep peace with her boss. It bothers her, though, to be so firmly in the spotlight for any length of time. It pokes at a wounded part of her—whatever part might've been happy to receive accolades, and recognition, prior to arriving on an alien world where she could be hurt, where Kal could be hurt, if anyone ever got too close to them. To the real them.

It's only when she's back home with Martha, Jonathan, and Kal that the praise is not immediately met with a level of discomfort. Though, it is a little embarrassing.

“On the fridge? Really?” Kara laughs as she reaches for the milk carton.

“Well, she wanted to hang it up on the bulletin board at the rec center,” Jonathan tells her from his seat at the kitchen table. “I had to talk her down. Bribed her with brand new magnets.”

“Aren't they cute?” Martha smiles at the updated collection. Kara has to agree that yes, the little plastic fruits are cute.

Kal, at least, is less concerned with telling her how great the article is, and more concerned with how professional journalism works. He wants to know everything. The questions last well into the evening; all four of them end up staying up late, comfortably gathered in the living room. Kal's in his usual place, sprawled on the rug, Jonathan in the recliner, Martha and Kara on the couch. It's only when Jonathan starts snoring at an octave unpleasant for Kryptonian super-hearing that they decide to call it a night.

“Put out fresh sheets,” Jonathan tells her through a yawn as he makes his way up the stairs. Both Jonathan and Martha keep insisting that they're eventually going to get around to turning Kara's room into...something. (Guest room and/or office are the prevailing front runners, though 'craft room' and 'home gym' have also been tossed around, on occasion.) The only proof that they've made any sort of progress is the handful of boxes in the back of her closet, otherwise it remains unchanged.

“Thanks,” Kara says, as Kal trails close behind Jonathan. She's about to follow, when the phone rings in the kitchen.

Martha answers. Several seconds pass, and then, from the doorway,

“Kara? It's for you.”

Kara blinks in surprise; she has no idea who it could be. Not any of her coworkers—she's made a point not to mention her routine weekends trips back home—she'd never be able to explain where she gets the money for 'airfare.' And she doubts it's anyone from town—the median age in Smallville is about fifty, and therefore, almost everyone's in bed by eight.

She accepts the receiver from Martha, but not before raising her eyebrows, hoping she can provide some sort of guess as to who it is.

But Martha shakes her head; she doesn't know.

“...Hello?”

“Kara?”

It takes Kara a moment to place the voice, distorted as it is by the phone. “Dr. Hoshi!” she says, both by way of greeting, and in answer to Martha's questioning stare. “...Hi!”

“I haven't caught you at a bad time, have I?”

“No, no, of course not,” Kara says as she leans against the wall. Martha offers a quick wave and mouths goodnight, which prompts Kara to glance at her wrist watch. “Er...uh. Well. It's a bit late, actually.”

“Oh! That's—sorry. I didn't even consider,” Dr. Hoshi says.

“It's fine,” Kara assures her, idly fiddling with the phone cord. “Just...unexpected?” she admits. “This actually isn't...” Kara pauses for a moment, trying to decide how much she wants to share. “...My primary number.”

“I know,” Dr. Hoshi says, “I used our tracking software to find you.”

Kara drops the phone cord. ...The mapping software can do that? A reflexive paranoia causes momentary chaos with her response time; she wants to stammer out some sort of reply, but she can only open her mouth, and close it. It's on maybe the third or forth guppy imitation when she hears a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. “...That was a joke.”

The alarm bells in her mind cease their loud ringing. “Oh, ha,” Kara forces out her own chuckle. “A joke. Of course.”

“I tracked you down the old-fashioned way,” Dr. Hoshi explains. “I asked the receptionist at the Daily Planet for the best number to call.”

“And she gave you this one?” Kara asks, incredulous.

“No, she gave me five,” Dr. Hoshi laughs. “And I tried them all, several times. This is the first call to get through.” Kara can hear the smile in her voice as she adds, “You're a difficult woman to track down, Miss Kent.”

That's by design. “Oh, that's...I think I just need to update my contact information,” Kara lies. And, because it is late, and Kara's still recovering from that momentary scare, she's inclined to be a little more blunt than she might normally be, otherwise. “Was there something you needed?”

“Well, now it seems silly,” Dr. Hoshi says. “I just...” she trails off briefly. “Wanted to thank you. For your work on the article. I had a chance to sit down and read it today, and...” There's another pause. “It's very well done. Thank you.”

Kara's both relieved, and a little...underwhelmed? She'd almost been expecting the worst—that Dr. Hoshi was displeased with the article. Because why else call at this hour? But...a simple thank you? She probably could have left that with the receptionist at the Planet...

“Oh, uh...” Kara returns to fiddling with the phone cord. “You're welcome. But, really, I was just. Reporting the incredible work you're doing.” 'Stop deflecting, and just say thank you', she can hear Perry saying. “But, ah. Thank you. For the...thank you. Call.” She finishes awkwardly.

“I'm used to not being taken seriously by my peers,” Dr. Hoshi goes on like she hasn't heard Kara. “For a number of reasons, as I'm sure you can imagine, but. The work I'm doing certainly doesn't win me any favors.”

Kara frowns. “Your mapping software is the most advanced cataloging system of its kind,” she says. “The data you've been gathering should be proof of concept—”

Dr. Hoshi cuts her off with a laugh. “See, that's what I'm talking about. Your conviction. Your faith in the work we're doing here. You treat us with respect, and the same cannot always be said of my colleagues.” She sighs. “That is what I wanted to thank you for, Miss Kent.”

Kara is truly at a loss for words. She has to go back to, “You're...you're welcome.”

“I've kept you long enough, I think,” Dr. Hoshi says, and Kara's grateful, because she's not sure she'd be able to keep this conversation going. “And again, sorry about the late call.”

“It's no trouble, really.”

They exchange polite goodbyes, and Kara returns the receiver to its cradle, still processing the exchange.

As she turns off the kitchen light and heads upstairs, she reasons that maybe it's not that weird, this late night thank you call. She remembers her dad and her uncle, and how they would lose track of both time and social graces when wrapped up in a project.

And of course Dr. Hoshi would pick up on...how had she described it? Kara's conviction. Because Kara, for as cagey as she tries to be about some things, has a very hard time not wearing her passion on her sleeve. She's honestly surprised that Dr. Hoshi didn't ask her if she'd be interesting in donating to their funding, for as much apparent interest Kara has in their research.

She tries not to let this worry her as she brushes her teeth and changes into her pajamas. She's just finished putting the clean sheets on her bed, when she hears Kal.

“Who was on the phone?”

He's using their 'super secret cousin communication line'—basically whispering at a volume only the two of them can hear.

“The scientist from the article,” Kara answers, relieved to discover that he didn't resort to eavesdropping to satisfy his curiosity. “She just wanted to say thank you.”

“That's all? ...I figured it was some sort of emergency, cause it's so late.”

“I thought so too, but.” Kara flops down on her bed and closes her eyes. “Nope. Just a thank you.”

“She thinks you did a good job?”

“Seems so.”

“That's good. That she liked it.”

“Mmmm-hmmmm.”

“...”

“...Kara?”

“...”

“...Are you asleep?”

“...I'd like to be.”

“It was really just a thank you call?”

Kara sighs. “I think...she was just happy that I took her seriously. She liked that the article was respectful, of her and her work.”

“...Why wouldn't it be?”

“Because a lot of people think her work is...” Kara tries to find a good word. “...a waste of time.”

“I thought she made space maps.”

“Not that work.”

“Oh.” There's a lengthy stretch of silence. Kara thinks that perhaps Kal's finally out of questions, and she can get some sleep. But, “Well. What other work does she do?”

Kara stares at the ceiling. The paint and drywall fade away to reveal the dark night sky overhead.

“She wants to find aliens.”

* * *

NOW

The Grand Mesa SETI Installation isn't much to look at, squat and square as it is, surrounded by miles and miles of red dirt and scrub. The fifteen or so arrays aren't terribly impressive either—in fact, they have something of an eerie quality about them, occasionally shifting, intermittently whirring, all in a slow, synchronized dance.

Against the backdrop of the Arizona desert, it's all just a bit...alien.

Kara would laugh at the irony, if not for the pervading somber mood of the visit.

The interior of the facility is less off-putting than the exterior; no-nonsense linoleum, flat grey walls, plastic furniture left over from the mid-eighties. Kara wonders if the equipment, too, is as dated as the interior decorating, which only makes her frown deepen.

There's no one at the front desk. Kara takes a quick glance at the rest of the facility with her x-ray vision—there are a few blind spots, thanks to what she imagines is old, lead-based paint, but she can see that it's basically a skeleton crew; the bare minimum amount of techs to keep the place running.

Kara sighs quietly to herself as she hears the click of the door on the far side of the front desk.

“Oh, uh. Hi.” It's a man, perhaps in his forties, dressed casually and clearly surprised by her presence. “Um. Are you here to see somebody?”

Kara opens her mouth, but is cut off by the arrival of a second person breezing through the same door.

“She's here to see me,” Dr. Hoshi tells the man. He catches a glimpse of her expression—stony and displeased, and quickly excuses himself. “Hello, Miss Kent.”

She doesn't smile, but the displeasure softens marginally into something like annoyance. Kara marvels at how different this woman is, from the woman she'd written about in her article, years ago. She's still austere, with her sharply styled a-line bob and pristine oxford and slacks, but where there was once idealistic determination in her stern gaze, there is a brittleness; cold and fragile, like thin ice.

“Dr. Hoshi,” Kara greets. “It's been a while.”

“It has,” Dr. Hoshi agrees, but her tone is utterly flat. “But that's to be expected, I suppose. As you can see,” she gestures to the room around them, but it's obvious she means the entire facility. “I'm hardly a high-profile catch these days.”

“You alluded to as much, in your recent...” Accusation? Confession? “...Interview.”

“If you're here for proof,” Dr. Hoshi shakes her head. “I have nothing for you.”

“I know,” Kara says, and Dr. Hoshi's expression changes for the first time since they've started talking. Not much, though. Just a slight narrowing of her eyes, a barely perceptible twitch in her frown.

“Then why are you here?”

“Well,” Kara's relieved for the opportunity to drop the hardened reporter act, “you might not have proof, necessarily. But that doesn't mean there isn't a story here.” Dr. Hoshi looks like she's going to protest. “This is all off the record. I'm not on company time. Honest.” The other woman still regards her with suspicion.

“You came all the way out here, on your own time, just to talk...off the record?”

“I came 'all the way out here' to visit friends in California,” Kara corrects her. “This was on the way.”

Dr. Hoshi regards her for several long moments. Kara feels inclined to add, “I want to hear your side of this. Because...I think you deserve that chance.” She shrugs in what she hopes is a disarming manner. “And I'm just. Still a big fan of your work.”

This seems to be convincing enough for Dr. Hoshi to acquiesce to her presence. Not fully accept it, exactly. But. Tolerate it?

Which Kara can work with.

“Was doing,” Dr. Hoshi tells her, breezing past Kara and gesturing for her to follow. They enter a hallway off the main lobby and head deeper into the box-like building. Handcarts stacked high with half-packed boxes of broken and outdated instruments litter the spaces outside of large rooms that house the actual monitoring equipment: computers just as boxy and unremarkable as the cardboard boxes in the halls.

“This entire facility is obsolete,” Dr. Hoshi explains over her shoulder. “We're basically a glorified tax right-off.”

“They put you here to keep you quiet and out of the way,” Kara surmises. Dr. Hoshi nods.

“And I got tired of keeping quiet.”

Kara nods. She'd seen the 'tell-all' interview, an impassioned accusation on a local news channel that had stumbled its way on to the national news scene when a LexCorp lawyer happened to catch a rerun of the broadcast while holed up in a grimy motel off of 10. (Why a LexCorp lawyer was even in a grimy motel in Arizona in the first place was conveniently left out of the equation, no doubt thanks to LexCorp's not inconsiderable PR team.) Had the lawyer never seen the footage, it probably would've faded into obscurity. Some loony, local scientist claims big business stole her stuff.

Big whoop.

Dr. Hoshi flips on a light switch, and the dim set of fluorescent overhead lights are joined by a second set of equally dim fluorescence lights; these ones buzz louder, though.

“Do you think they'll fire you?” Kara asks, watching as Dr. Hoshi begins what looks like a routine check of the computers and recording apparatuses.

“No, not really,” she says with an air of grim acceptance. “It will be easier for them to blacklist me. I'll be forced to stay here, and they'll be able to keep an eye on me.” She pauses, and stares at the large arrays in the red expanse just outside of the building. There's a dull whine as they turn their large, concave faces to the east. Mechanized sunflowers, searching the starlight. “All these relics, constantly recording. And I'm the only thing here LexCorp cares about monitoring.” She says this quietly, more to herself than Kara.

Kara gives her a moment, not wanting to be rude as she gently continues her questions. “Do you know if LexCorp is using your technology currently? Do you know if they used it to track the Doomsday Event?”

“The Doomsday Event was a terrorist attack,” Dr. Hoshi parrots the widely-accepted official statement. Kara blinks, surprised to hear that line come from Dr. Hoshi.

“But what about Supergir—” Kara starts to say, only to swallow the rest of her sentence whole as Dr. Hoshi slowly turns.

“...What about Supergirl?” She asks, eyes narrowed. Kara frantically tries to think. She's only done a handful of interviews, and she can't remember. She can't remember...did she ever say it? Did she ever admit that she was an alien?

“I thought,” Kara clears her throat. “I thought she confirmed. That Doomsday was extraterrestrial.” She hopes Dr. Hoshi doesn't follow the news too closely; Kara never actually commented on the Doomsday Event.

“...Maybe she did,” Dr. Hoshi says with a shrug, turning her intense stare away from Kara. Kara breathes a little easier. “And maybe it was. But STAR Labs handled the autopsy, and they insist that whatever attacked Metropolis was human in origin. I know LexCorp tried to bully them into sharing access to their findings, but they were never successful.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, because I did some of the bullying.” Dr. Hoshi says. Kara's eyes widen. “But it became clear to me that they weren't going to budge, so I backed off, and focused on my own work. LexCorp 'locked down' my research shortly thereafter. Maybe in retaliation, for failing to procure the STAR Labs files. Or maybe because they felt they were falling behind in the new space race, and my insistence that we should proceed slowly and carefully and follow the science was too much of a hindrance.”

Dr. Hoshi's voice rises slightly as she ends her statement; it's the most emotion Kara's seen from her since she arrived, even more than the quiet suspicion of LexCorp's spying.

“...I'm sorry,” Kara says. And she means it.

Dr. Hoshi must sense this, because she lets out a very long sigh, and even offers a smile. It still carries that brittle quality, though. “Thank you.”

They share a moment of mutual silence before Dr. Hoshi turns to inspect the last computer.

“So, no. LexCorp was not using my work, prior to the Doomsday event. But they're almost certainly using it now.” She leans in close to the screen, and types something on the keyboard. “Or, they're leasing it to the military. We'll probably never know for sure, though.” She squints, and types another command in on the keyboard. “Odd...”

“What's odd?” Kara asks, moving to stand closer to the computer. There's a lot of information on the screen, but Kara can't decipher it. It just looks like a lot of random numbers and letters.

“This computer tracks our data here against the information gathered at the sister installation, down in Brazil. There's a lag, but the systems generally keep in sync, which we use to make sure everything's up and running properly.”

“So if they fall out of sync—”

“Something's broken.”

“It's not just...picking up space radio waves?”

Dr. Hoshi chuckles. “No. See this collection of data here?” She points to a set of numbers on the screen. Kara nods. “It's essentially too strong to be from space. Something is physically affecting an array.”

“Here?”

“No, down in Brazil.” Dr. Hoshi moves to the other side of the lab and grabs a phone from one of the desks. Kara hears the dial tone, and then the rapid succession of key tones.

She plans on listening to the entire call, of course—all the while making a show of how very interesting this computer screen is—until the conversation lapses into Portuguese. Kara winces.

Mental note: Learn Portuguese.

Given the tone of the individual on the other end of the line, Kara gets the sense that something is wrong. Maybe not catastrophically wrong, but the other scientist is clearly distressed. Dr. Hoshi says something that Kara assumes is meant to be assuring before ending the call.

“I'm sorry, Miss Kent, but I'm afraid we'll have to cut this visit short.”

Yes, we will. “That's okay, I understand,” Kara tells her as Dr. Hoshi leads her back into the hall. “Is everything alright?”

“There's some sort of...” Kara can see that the other woman is choosing her words carefully. “Mechanical problem, which means I get to look forward to a long evening of phone tag. Complete with international rates.” She smiles ruefully. “Another tax write-off for LexCorp.”

Dr. Hoshi apologizes again for the abrupt end to the visit, but Kara is quick to remind her that this was unplanned.

“Now we're even,” Kara says, and Dr. Hoshi blinks at her in confusion. “Um. From when you called me, back when the article...never mind.”

Dr. Hoshi is kind enough to ignore the awkward moment, and simply wishes her well on her visit to California.

“Are you driving?” Dr. Hoshi asks as Kara digs her car keys out of her purse. Kara heads for the parking lot.

“Just a rental,” she says, holding up the key fob and the bright yellow tag attached to it. “I'm heading to the airport.”

“Have a safe flight, then.” Dr. Hoshi says, and returns to squat brick building.

Kara drives back into town and returns the car to the rental agency. That part wasn't a lie. And technically speaking, she is going to fly.

She finds a secluded spot, behind some buildings on the edge of town, and tugs at her shirt, revealing the primary-colored costume beneath.

Up, up, and away.

* * *

The only similarity between the Grand Mesa and the Montanha Verde SETI installations are the collection of large arrays flanking the main buildings; while Grand Mesa's surrounded by a vast sea of parched, red earth, Montanha Verde lives up to its name, nestled atop a collection of vibrant green foothills, the arrays dotting the terraced slope of the mountainside just above.

As Kara touches down on one of the far hills, she takes a quick x-ray scan of the building and the immediate surrounding area, mentally tallying the number of people onsite.

There are more techs here than at the Grand Mesa facility; she hurriedly does the math. If it comes down to it, she can clear the entire site in two minutes. Depending on wind speed, anyway.

She's hoping that won't be the case. As it turns out, 'mechanical failure' means that one of the arrays is on fire, and threatening to topple into an adjacent array, which is troubling enough on its own. More troubling, is the potential for the arrays to tumble down the mountainside, right into the back corner of the main building.

Easy fix, she decides as she (literally) flies into action. She decides against freeze breath, not wanting to damage the arrays further. Instead she flies in a tight circle around the flames, creating a vortex that robs them of oxygen. The flames die down almost instantly; she does send a light breeze in the direction of the singed metal, just to cool it down.

Once she's certain the nearby vegetation won't catch fire again, she lands, and pulls the leaning array back into position. She welds a quick patch into place—hardly a permanent solution, but better than simply hoping the compromised array won't fall over.

Some of the techs want to rush over as soon as they see her finish with the spot weld, but she holds up her hands, stay back! They nod, and keep a safe distance.

“Thank you,” they all start to talk over one another as she approaches, and that's the only phrase she can 1.) pick out and 2.) understand.

She underlines her mental note. Learn Portuguese!!

“You're welcome. I'm—sorry, I don't,” now only a few of the techs are talking, realizing that she's a little overwhelmed. “I don't speak—”

“Verde, verde,” Kara hears.

“Verde? Right, Montanha Verde,” she points over to the building, hoping she's understood. But one of them—a man with dark hair greying at the temples and a neatly trimmed beard—shakes his head profusely.

“Verde monstro.”

“Green...monster?” Kara can't imagine that word meaning anything else. The man doesn't confirm if she's translated correctly; he points farther down the ridge, past the land cleared for the facility, where the cropped vegetation gives way to actual jungle.

It's both the last thing Kara expects—this was supposedly just a mechanical failure, after all—and yet somehow, terribly fitting. Of course a 'green monster' would be the source of mysterious troubles at a SETI facility.

“I'll check it out,” Kara tells them, hoping her tone and facial expression help get the meaning across. She takes off quickly, only to belatedly realize that perhaps it's not terribly wise, to charge into unfamiliar terrain.

It's not like there's anything on Earth that can hurt you, Kara reminds herself.

Still. She doesn't love the prospect of accidentally spooking a wild animal. She slows down and flies just above the canopy, keeping her eyes trained on the forest floor for any signs of...whatever tracks a green monster might make.

She keeps up the search for several hours, and tries not to think about the fact that this is a textbook case of needle in a haystack. She's not physically tired when she finally calls it quits, but it's getting dark; the search is only going to become more and more difficult as the sun sinks lower in the sky.

She spots a clearing and drops into a quick landing, intent on checking the wristwatch she keeps in her cape pocket while there's still enough light to see. It's set to Metropolis time, and she's somewhere west of Belem, but what is that in terms of longitude—?

Kara doesn't notice it at first. Or, she does notice it, but it doesn't register until it's almost too late—she mentally cataloged it as just. Typical forest sounds.

But there's a pattern. A rhythm.

Footsteps.

Kara whirls and her heat vision goes off without conscious thought—just a bright beam of blue that shoots in whatever direction she's looking. A half-fallen tree branch bursts into flames.

“Argh!”

The yell isn't Kara's—a tall, something. Man? Stumbles back, away from the flame, bringing an arm up to shield his face.

Kara sends a gust of cold air on the flames, not wanting to create an international incident. Superhero Burns Down Amazon Rainforest by Accident is a headline Kara would very much like to avoid.

The man continues his frenzied retreat from the flames, only to stumble over a large exposed root. He lands on his back, hard.

“Please,” he says in a voice that is distinctly not human. “Please, do not kill me.”

He drops his arms, revealing his face. Green skin and bright red eyes.

Verde monstro.

Except, no. Not a monster. Not a monster at all; frightened and confused lab techs had, perhaps understandably, seen something unfamiliar, something monstrous among the flames. But Kara is not frightened and confused. Startled, maybe, but otherwise able to see how scared he is. She can hear it.

“I'm not going to kill you,” she tells him, holding out her hands in an open, non-threatening gesture. “I'm sorry about my—about the fire,” she apologizes. “That happens sometimes. When I'm scared.”

She doesn't move forward at all—she doesn't want to do anything that could be perceived as aggression. She lets him set the pace of this...encounter? Exchange? Whatever this is.

He uses the opportunity to climb to his feet, all the while keeping a close eye on her. He remains tense, arms bent in a defensive position.

“I'm—” Kara knows she should say Supergirl, but what comes out instead is, “Kara Zor-El. I'm here to help.”

He says nothing. They continue to stare at one another for a very long time.

After a small eternity, he finally speaks.

“My name is J'onn J'onzz,” he says. “And I don't think you can.”

* * *

Kara starts a fire—deliberately, and safely, this time—and invites J'onn to take a seat.

He does take a seat. About ten feet away from the flames.

“...You don't want to sit closer?” Kara asks. It's possible he's impervious to extreme temperatures, like her and Kal, but. If he sits closer to the light at least, the conversation might be a little less...spooky.

(Because, as much as Kara hates to admit it, she can understand why the lab techs were scared; J'onn's face is comprised of hard angles, and a long, ovular cranium. Not unlike the shape humans ascribe to the stereotypical 'Gray' aliens supposedly found at Roswell. But, more so than the harsh angles and green skin, Kara thinks perhaps they were mostly reacting to the glowing red eyes.)

“No,” J'onn says simply.

Kara nods. “Okay.”

Another small eternity passes. And then,

“My planet...burned to death.”

Kara stares at him across the flames, watching the shadows shift over his face as he pointedly turns away from the fire.

A heavy sadness settle in her chest.

“You're a refugee,” she says.

J'onn doesn't look at her. He keeps his face turned away. “Someone who is forced to leave their home to escape war, persecution, or a natural disaster,” he recites the definition. “Yes. I am.”

Kara takes a deep breath, reflexively reaching for the edge of her cape, to run her fingers of the corner. An outlet for her pent-up emotions. “I'm sorry,” she says quietly. “Did...did anyone else escape?”

“I am the last.”

Tears spring to Kara's eyes, the words landing on all the broken bits, the still-healing bits that she buries down deep inside. They press down hard and cause her to let out a watery chuckle, which J'onn probably thinks is extremely rude.

But he must see the glint of the firelight reflecting off her tears, because his expression is one of confusion, not outrage. And Kara then explains,

“Same, actually.”

The confusion lingers only a moment longer, before understanding sets in. He nods.

And then, slowly, he stands.

Kara watches, a little confused herself, until she sees him skirt the edge of the clearing, and come to sit fractionally closer to her. Still quite far from the flames, but. Most definitely closer.

“I'm...sorry.”

She wipes at her tears and takes a steadying breath. “Me too.”

* * *

It's weird. Not a bad weird, but certainly some kind of weird—two complete strangers sharing stories of lost home worlds around a campfire, somewhere at the edge of the Amazon Rainforest.

Kara can't remember which one of them started it. She thinks maybe it was J'onn who got the ball rolling, telling her a little bit about Mars. Not much; there was still a guarded element to his demeanor, and Kara would eventually come to understand that wariness was borne of having spent so long on Earth hiding. Decades to her fifteen or so odd years.

And then she started talking about Krypton. Really talking about Krypton. The blemished, imperfect Krypton that Kara had, perhaps a bit unintentionally, scrubbed clean for Kal's bedtime stories.

Talking with Kal...it was just stories. Because all he knew was Earth.

Talking with J'onn—he knew. He'd had friends, family, a daily routine. Favorite foods that could never be replicated, because the ingredients no longer existed.

“That's why I wanted Dr. Hoshi's work to succeed,” Kara finds herself explaining, as the conversation inevitably turns to how they both came to be in Brazil in the first place. “I mean. Obviously, it's going to be...a long time, before Earth reaches the point where they have the technology necessary for intergalactic communication, let alone travel, but...” she purses her lips, and stares into the flames. “I'd like to think that someday, aliens will just be a fact of life. And then...maybe...” she sighs. “Maybe. We won't have to hide.”

She can see J'onn shift in her peripheral vision.

“That is where we differ,” he says. “I've been on this planet a very long time. I don't think we'll ever be able to stop hiding.”

Kara wants to argue the point, but J'onn continues, “There's a group that's been following me. Hunting me. I don't know how they're managing to track me.” J'onn looks off in the direction of the SETI facility. “I...overheard, that they were planning to make use of facilities like the one on that mountain ridge. If not to track us on this planet, then to track those like us before they even arrive.”

“Is that...” Kara swallows. “Why you...”

“I didn't want to injure anyone, I only wanted to disable their tools.” J'onn tells her, and Kara can't help that her first thought is one of stern judgement, that he's basically admitted to destroying private property, and by extension, potentially endangering all those people. “But I miscalculated, and the dish caught fire.” He takes a breath. “So I ran.”

“I...I understand your...” Kara doesn't think concern is the right word to use. “...Fear. I do. Really.” And she does. It's now, in her adulthood, that she's recognizing that it was not normal or healthy, for a thirteen-year-old to live with the constant background radiation of worry that a shadowy government organization could come snatch her or Kal at any time, with no warning or consequence. “But we can't just assume that everyone—that they're all like the group that's—” hunting, stalking, preying, “following you.”

“You have not encountered these people,” Kara can see that J'onn is making an effort to respond calmly. His shoulders tense, and his hands curl into fists. “You do not understand.”

It's a sobering reminder, one that Kara doesn't counter, even though she'd really like to. As alike as they are, they've also led very, very different lives. Kara has to respect that.

“You're right,” is what she decides to go with. “I'll never fully understand, and I'm sorry, for everything you've had to endure.”

“...Thank you.”

* * *

WHUP, WHUP, WHUP.

Kara grumbles in irritation. Her apartment building is 'centrally located, close to public transit, ideal for commuters,' which is realtor speak for: overlooks the elevated train tracks of the city's metro system on one side, and the approach to the Monarch Bridge on the other. So if it's not the sound of the yellow line waking her in the morning, it's the sound of a traffic copter, covering rush hour.

She reaches for her quilt, intent on burrowing beneath the covers to try and catch a few more minutes of sleep.

The quilt feels. Weirdly like her cape? That's—

She's awake in an instant, as the sounds of the helicopter become impossibly loud and close. She's not in her apartment; she's in Brazil—her and J'onn had talked so long, that she ended up deciding to simply catch an hour or so of sleep before heading back to the states, just before dawn. J'onn had offered to stick around and keep watch, 'just in case.'

Kara thought it was both courteous and maybe a little unnecessary at the time.

Boy, does she feel foolish.

“It's them,” J'onn says in a strained voice, eyes trained on the sky. “I have to go.”

He's already turning to head deeper into the jungle. Kara jumps to her feet, shaking off leaves and dirt.

“Wait, wait, there has to be...something we can do—” Kara says, rushing after him, but as she says it, she thinks, what? What can we do? Talk to them? Fight them? She's not even sure who this 'them' is. She's only heard J'onns vague accounts of their various encounters, and she gets the sense that he doesn't really know who they are, either.

“Don't involve yourself in this,” J'onn says, not bothering to look back at her as he speaks. “You're fortunate, you look like them. You have a life to go back to.” The words are painful to hear, but probably even more painful for J'onn to say, and they aren't untrue. “So, go.”

But Kara won't. She can't.

“Let me help you, at least,” Kara insists, reaching out to try and touch J'onn's shoulder. The movement makes him turn, causing him to slow.

There's a sharp Crack! followed by a terrible sound of wet impact. J'onn grunts, and falls to his knees.

“J'onn!” Kara cries out in concern, stooping to support him before he falls forward completely. A figure emerges from the dense brush and trees.

“Supergirl, what an unexpected surprise.” Kara looks up to see a black man dressed in camouflage fatigues, holding a semi-automatic weapon. The tag above his left breast pocket reads: H. Henshaw. “Didn't know you were hunting this monster as well.”

J'onn lets out another pained grunt. Kara helps him to apply pressure on the wound on his abdomen. “Do I know you?”

“No, but we know you,” Henshaw says with a terrible grin. “It's our business, to know all about our...” he pauses, and brings up his gun to train the sight on J'onn. “Strange visitors, from other planets.”

Kara positions herself between Henshaw and J'onn. “Are you CIA? Military?”

“I'm afraid that's classified information,” Henshaw says. “Move.”

“I'm not going to let you kill him,” Kara says fiercely.

“Careful, Supergirl,” Henshaw growls, tightening his grip on his gun. “So early in your career...do you really want to make yourself an enemy of the state?”

Kara doesn't know how to respond; she's desperately trying to think through this. Trying to see all the angles, all the potential consequences, instead of rushing in. (As she's prone to do.) But she can hear J'onn's labored breathing, her attention thus divided, her mind running in too many different directions.

Henshaw must mistake her hesitation for defiance. “Alright, let's try something else. Move, or I'll have a group of agents at that quaint little farm of yours faster than you can blink.”

Kara can't stop the strangled choking noise that works its way out of her mouth—no, no, she was so careful, she'd always been so careful...

You never should have become Supergirl, she thinks, but then, as she continues to stare, wide-eyed at Henshaw's face, she has a horrifying realization that he looks familiar. She's seen him before. Somewhere. Some--

A memory. Smallville. Shortly after her and Kal had landed, going into town with Martha, having pancakes at the diner before finishing their errands...

A couple of guys in suits at the far end of the restaurant. She caught their eyes a few time, but thought it was a fluke. An awkward, accidentally moment of eye contact.

But it wasn't. It wasn't a fluke, it wasn't an accident, they had found them. They'd known all along. But how?! She thinks, borderline hysterical. How had they evaded her detection? She has super-hearing! She can see through walls!

It's a struggle to simply breathe through the panic and processing; she doesn't notice as Henshaw loads a new cartridge into his gun—one that gives off a subtle glow in the milky, pre-dawn light.

He's about to fire, but there's a roar from behind Kara.

“Wha—no!” Henshaw yells as J'onn barrels into him. They both tumble further into the trees. Kara forces her mind to stop spinning in frenzied circles long enough to clamber unsteadily to her feet. They've known, they've always known—

Focus! She tells herself, and charges after the two men. She can hear them before she sees them, the grunting, the struggling, another gunshot.

Someone yells—Henshaw. But the yelling fades, like he's—

She's spotted them now. She surges forward through a tight knot of trees. J'onn is slumped at the edge of a cliff.

Henshaw is not with him.

“He...he went over, I wasn't—” J'onn tries to say, but he's breathing heavily, and still clutching his side. “—Not strong enough, not fast enough to pull him back—”

He passes out, at that point. She approaches the edge of the cliff, just enough to see that it's...a very long way down.

She presses the back of her fist to her mouth, eyebrows drawing together in distress as she imagines the fall. She proceeds no further. There's no need.

Instead, she picks J'onn up as gently as she can, and extends her hearing as far as it will go. The helicopter has landed a few miles to the south, and she can hear two separate scouting parties.

They need to leave.

They also need to...figure out what to do about these people, the ones who have been following J'onn, and apparently Kara as well.

...One crisis at a time, Kara decides.

She takes off, her speed probably more than a little reckless, but she needs to get J'onn help. And fast.

...She just hopes that the Danvers know as much about patching up Martians as they do about patching up Kryptonians.

* * *

Alex usually isn't allowed to have a second juice box, but she takes her chances asking mom if it would be okay. After all, Kara is visiting, and when Kara visits, sometimes the rules change a little bit.

Like getting a second juice box.

(She checks to see if any of the grown-ups are looking, before quickly grabbing a third juice box that she stuffs under her sweatshirt.)

She makes sure to close the refrigerator before hurrying past the dining room, where Kara and her parents are. They don't notice her, which is okay—they're really busy talking.

So she continues on her way to the family room. It's a little messier than normal, and for once, it isn't because Alex has forgotten to clean up her toys. Instead, there are Band-Aids and stuff all over. She's careful not to disturb anything—it's all stuff that only the grown-ups are allowed to use, and she's already sneaking juice boxes, so. Best not to break any more rules.

She settles herself on the couch, fluffing a pillow, and getting comfortable before she turns her attention to her juice box. She pulls off the straw and bites through the plastic wrapper.

The big green man that Kara brought with her stirs at the other end of the couch.

“Wanna juice box?” Alex asks, removing the super-secret extra one from under her sweatshirt. “It's fruit punch.”

The big green man blinks at her with his glowing red eyes. Christmas colors, Alex thinks.

“Fruit...punch?”

“It's really good,” Alex explains. “Because it has all the fruits. Together.”

She offers it to him. He looks at it for a second, before reaching out to take it.

“...Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Alex says. She starts on her own juice box, then realizes the green man is still staring at his. “Oh. You gotta—” Alex reaches over and pulls off the straw to hand it to him. He takes it, but he stares at that too. So she reaches over again and takes the straw, slamming it on the coffee table to get it to pop up out of the plastic.

She sets the wrapper off to the side, and gives him the straw once more. “Now poke it through the silver dot.” She points to the top of the juice box.

The green man follows her instructions. The straw slides into place. “Yeah. Like that.”

She watches as he takes a hesitant sip. The juice box trembles a little in his grip, but that's probably because he was hurt earlier, and is still getting better.

“It is...very good.” He says after several more sips. Alex smiles.

“Toldja.”

They sit side by side, enjoying their juice boxes in companionable silence. As Alex finishes her own, the cardboard crumpling as she noisily slurps the last fruity drops, she says, “My name's Alex.”

“I'm J'onn J'onzz,” the man says.

“Are you from Krypton, like Kara?”

“...No...I'm from Mars.”

“Oh.” Alex nods. “Okay.” She looks down at her hands, and counts on her fingers. “My...very...educated...mother...” She looks up. “That's right next to Earth!” she smiles. “Like a next-door neighbor.”

“...Yes,” J'onn agrees.

She looks over to see that he's finished his juice box, too. “Want another one? Mom will probably say it's okay, because you're sick.”

J'onn regards his empty juice box. “Would it also be...fruit punch?”

“Yeah.”

“...Then yes, please.” He gives her a small smile. “I would like another juice box.”

* * *

It takes J'onn two days to recover. It's mostly thanks to his own healing ability—Eliza and Jeremiah do as much as they can for him, but their resources are limited.

So, he spends the two days sleeping in their guest bedroom. Kara spends those two days thanking Eliza and Jeremiah profusely.

“I owe you guys,” she tells them.

“You can pay us back in juice boxes,” Jeremiah says.

J'onn is up and about by day three, and pretty much immediately insists on leaving.

“I'm a danger to you all, staying here.” The Danvers try to reassure him that, it's fine, that he doesn't need to feel like he has to flee into the night.

But. Kara had told them. About the man, Henshaw, and what he had revealed to her, when he'd cornered them in the jungle.

“They probably know about you, too,” Kara admits with a grim expression. “I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be,” Eliza says with a firm shake of her head. “We were well aware of the risks, when you came to us after the Doomsday Event.”

“But J'onn's right,” Kara says. “It's dangerous—”

“Then it's a good thing we've got a Kryptonian on speed-dial,” Jeremiah interrupts with a grin.

“Still, I understand why he's anxious to go,” Eliza concedes. “Is there anything we can do to help him?”

Kara admits she isn't sure, and is determined to find out. Which is how she finds herself in the Danvers' backyard, joining J'onn in quietly admiring the sunset.

“I've never been able to just,” he takes a long, deep breath. “Enjoy this planet.”

Kara nods in somber understanding. But then adds, “One of the things Earth has going for it,” she smiles. “It's beautiful.”

“It is.”

Encouraged by his agreement, Kara continues, “And a lot of the people on this planet...are really wonderful too.”

She braces for an argument. But,instead, J'onn looks down at his hand, and Kara realizes he's holding a juice box.

“I still have a hard time believing that,” he says. “...But I would like to try.”

She nods again. “The Danvers want to help,” Kara tells him, crossing her arms over her shirt. She's not in costume. Standing next to J'onn, though, with his regal blue cape and dark, armored suit, she feels under dressed. “We all want to help. However we can.”

“That group...I think they're called the D.E.O.”

Kara frowns. “How do you know that?”

“I heard one of the other agents,” he says, which Kara finds strange. She'd heard the agents too, but they'd mostly just been whispering commands and confirming locations, entirely in code; she hadn't heard any of them openly discussing specifics.

But then, maybe he meant he'd heard it during one of their earlier encounters.

“They'll be looking for Henshaw.”

She turns away from him. “There's no way he survived that fall,” she says in a low voice, trying not to think of the man's grizzly fate. She's still horrified by what Henshaw told her, and she got the impression that the man took a sickening glee in the prospect of killing J'onn—and possibly any alien they deemed 'too powerful' to conceivably coexist with humanity in peace. But still. It was a gruesome end, one Kara wouldn't wish on anyone.

“I'm going to take his place,” J'onn says suddenly.

Kara starts. “What?”

She turns back to face him and he's—something's happening. There's a red glow that envelopes his entire body, and J'onn's face fades away, replaced by the face of Hank Henshaw.

Kara gapes.

“I've thought about this,” he says, “If Henshaw is listed as 'MIA', or worse, it they find and identify his remains at the bottom of that ravine, they'll intensify their search, maybe even respond more harshly to perceived 'threats'.

“But if I take his place...I can divert their entire operation. Change it from the inside.” Kara's trying to focus on his plan, because, as wild as it is, it's...admittedly a very good one. It would potentially solve...a lot of problems.

...But she's silently freaking-out, just a little. J'onn just—dead! Dead guy! Dead guy, standing here, talking to me! “I can make it safer on this planet, for people like us.”

“That's—you—” Kara shakes her head. “You can shapeshift???”

J'onn smiles.

“I can also read minds.”

* * *

“—and she didn't come back, but satellite imagery suggests she left Brazil alive, with an injured civilian. They entered U.S. airspace that morning.”

“...I see.”

“Did you get the reports on the array? The damage was surprisingly minimal.”

“...I did get the reports, but I still need to look them over.” She ends the conversation abruptly, knowing she'll have to apologize to Dr. Silva later.

But she doesn't really care.

Because how was it, that within hours—hours—of speaking off the record with Kara Kent about an incident at the Montanha Verde installation, Supergirl arrived at that very same location, without any explanation as to how she knew they were in trouble, how she even knew where to go?

The obvious explanation is that Kara leaked the story to someone with connections to Supergirl. Or maybe Kara herself was in contact with the superhero.

Or.

Dr. Hoshi retreats to her office. A sparse room consisting of a desk, a chair, and a meticulously organized bookshelf. It's free of any personal touches—Kimiyo remembers feeling like it would have been admitting defeat, to settle down here. To invest in the lie LexCorp was building, about her. Her career.

Normally, the sight of the office simply depresses her. Now?

She finds herself growing angry.

She sits at the desk, and thinks. Kara Kent had always been so invested in their work. Kara Kent had come here, unannounced, and had basically received a VIP tour, getting an up-close look at their monitoring equipment. (However rudimentary and obsolete it may be.)

And there was that business about the Doomsday Event. And Supergirl.

Supergirl...who went to help with the damaged array. The damaged array that Kimiyo had specifically mentioned.

To Kara Kent.

...A crazy theory, she decides. But then, how many widely accepted scientific truths began as mere crazy theories?

She just has to test it.

But to test a crazy theory, you need funding. And resources.

She looks around the small, bleak office.

She reaches for the phone on her desk. Dials a familiar number.

The call is picked up on the second ring.

“Kimiyo, hello. What a pleasant surprise,” the greeting is not delivered with any sort of sincerity. “Has E.T. phoned home yet?”

Kimiyo refuses to dignify the stupid joke with a response. “I want out of here, Lex.”

“You're welcome to tender your resignation at any time.”

“I know how we can get back at STAR Labs,” Kimiyo says.

The line goes quiet for a time.

“I'm listening.”

“It's just a theory, at this point. I'd need to test it...I'd need—”

“Access to your research? Your old lab?” his tone is mocking.

“And money.”

“Natch.”

“You wanted Doomsday, right?”

“...You have something on Doomsday?”

“No,” Kimiyo admits, and Lex makes an irritated noise. “...I might have something on Supergirl.”

She waits for his response.

There's a chuckle. A laugh. A guffaw, and she's certain she's blown her chance at redemption, that she's destroyed her career for a record second time in the space of three years.

But then he speaks.

“That's even better.”

Dr. Hoshi takes a steadying breath.

“So we have a deal?”

Lex Luthor laughs, in a manner most unsettling.

“Oh, yes.”

* * *

NOTES:

- I generally try to keep the notes to a minimum but THIS ONE’S GONNA NEED SOME EXPLANATION - It took me forever to decide on when J’onn appears in the CAK universe. I had initially planned on just using the date and circumstances from the show, essentially replacing Jeremiah with Kara. - Buuuuuut that would mean J’onn would arrive when Alex was a teenager, and the thought of Smol Alex inspiring J’onn to have faith in humanity was. Too compelling of a notion to pass up. XD - So this kind of contradicts events in ‘the one where alex saves the world’ but those inconsistencies can be handwaved away with: Alex wasn’t aware that her cool Martian friend she met One Time is the same guy as Kara’s grumpy colleague from the DEO. - TIMELINE CHECK: This takes place before, and then after ‘the one with the beginning’ (AKA the Doomsday one.) - As always: the science is just pure made-up nonsense, cobbled together from light Googling and my vague recollections of Contact. - Kara finds J’onn in Brazil as opposed to Peru because I definitely misremembered episode 1x17. - And SPEAKING OF, if the whole trip seems contrived and like it was meant to be the beginning of a much longer plot/mystery, that’s because it was, but I lost the notes to what I had initially planned.

#stranger writes #supergirl fic #cool aunt kara AU #CAK AU #J'onn J'onzz #kara danvers #alex danvers #j'onn and kara centric #long post

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bnhablessings · 5 years ago

Text

Spying with Love!

NN is still going on forever in my heart. This is a one-shot I thought of to contribute to the love of Sof and NN. I imagine this would take place after Denki comes over and ruins Shouto’s OJ

Sof is an amazing writer and I love her so go check her out! @myherowritings

(Sof you changed Todoroki for me so I had to include alien-related things in here. :’) I hope you enjoy this thing, bby! <3)

If you somehow have not read Number Neighbor please go read it. Here is the (Masterlist). You will not regret it. : )

Summary: (Name) needs to make sure her best friend is being treated well by his new boyfriend so she becomes a spy with her other roommates. Plot twist: He knows

Words: 1,798

Todoroki Shouto x Midoriya Izuku (Of course I’d grab the chance to have them be dating so yes. They are an item in this.)

Shinsou Hitoshi x Kaminari Denki

----

“Stop pushing!” You whisper-shout while glancing around the corner of the street cautiously.

The two males a few feet behind you share a glance with each other. Both are wondering who the hell you’re talking to. You turn back to look at them as you place a finger on your lips.

“(Name), this is no time to be joking around,” Todoroki murmurs as he glances at his partner with a slight serious pout.

Midoriya nods his head and tries to bring you back to their reality, “C’mon (Name). You know how Shouto gets when we’re running low on orange juice.”

“SHHHHH-“

They finally come near you and peak their own heads around the corner. To their surprise, you had spotted Shinsou and his new boyfriend they briefly met. With a smug look on your face you wiggle your eyebrows at them.

“No. We need the orange juice,” Todoroki states his eyes narrowing down slightly as he just a teeny-bit conflicted.

You’re about to get on your knees to beg the weirdo to spy with you when Midoriya pipes in with a brilliant idea.

“Why don’t we spy on them on their next date tomorrow?”

…Why didn’t you think of that?

“Wait what date?” You ask realizing you had no idea they had a date tomorrow.

Todoroki raises an eyebrow as he intertwines his hand with Midoriya’s. He’s ready to leave you for not remembering the conversation held earlier when you met Kaminari. They turn towards the direction of the grocery store and ignore your now crying form.

~*~

“What? How rude. He said we all probably look stupid,” You inform your other spies of what your bestie, Bakugou, had texted.

Todoroki wants to scoff at that response while Midoriya flushes from the slight truth of it. You give your bestie a crying emoji before deciding to text him the updates later. In the meantime, you have more important business to deal with.

You push your beanie further down on your head until it touches the top of the dark sunglasses you’re wearing. All of you are wearing dark-colored schemed clothing, beanies, and sunglasses for this important mission. Bakugou may be slightly, only a smidge, correct. You all look like you are in a cult infiltrating this mall.

The strange looks you are all getting won’t deter what needs to be done!

You make sure you keep a good distance while taking cute (kind of creepy) photos with your phone of an oblivious Shinsou and Kaminari holding hands. This goes on for a while as the three of you watch with careful and curious eyes as they do many things.

They share a smoothie together and heart is soaring from how happy Shinsou looks. Kaminari is good in your book. That is until Midoriya points out a store they are headed to. This will be the judgement of fashion.

They walk into the flashy store.

The three of you watch from the shop across. You are judging the yellow boy as he picks up a pair of clothing. “I get his theme is yellow but… Honey, no. Those don’t match.” You want to desperately call out to him.

Midoriya tilts his head, “Look. Shinsou is helping him out. Black or white goes with yellow perfectly. Maybe brown.”

“He’s giving off weird vibes… Are you sure he didn’t knock over my juice on purpose?” Todoroki glances at the two of you for confirmation.

You roll your eyes while Midoriya, in vain, does his best to comfort the dual-haired boy who is now over-analyzing everything… Which could turn to your favor in needing to know if this weird but bright kid will be good to your sarcastic best friend. It doesn’t hurt to be on the safe side.

“You know what? Maybe he did knock your orange juice over on purpose. He’s obviously not an alien as he a bit dummy in the head but- Quick, what other things have you noticed off about him?” You ask.

His eyes narrow down in focus as he starts to list things off at the top of his head, “His hair is weird with that black stripe but he seems to be born with that so never mind. I have noticed that he stutters, his skin seems to flush, his eyes go a bit sparkly, and his smile turns wider when he’s all near Shinsou. If he got abducted by an alien maybe they are using him as a test subject to watch over Shinsou. We need to find out why they would be into Shinsou though. Wait. All those symptoms… sound familiar."

Midoriya lets out a squeak as Todoroki looks at him. You are trying to hold yourself back from laughter and the pain of wanting to hit him with love.

“Midoriya, do you remember that one night a month ago when I felt a sudden chest pain in my heart?” Todoroki asks.

You remember it clearly and it’s taking all you have not to cry now. All of you were binge-watching horror movies and all you said was they looked rather cozy since they were leaning against each other. You didn’t expect Midoriya to malfunction and Todoroki to ask for clarification on the meaning “cozy”.

You don’t regret changing the context at all because it gave Midoriya the courage to confess and here we are.

Midoriya nods with a slight blush as he says, “That… That was before we started dating, Shouto.”

“Is this all a ploy from the alie-“

“Let me stop you right there, dimwit. Those chest pains were your love wavelengths are whatever. Anyway, those symptoms you listed is the proof that the Pikachu weirdo does love our boy,” You state with a smile.

It forces all of you to glance back and see the two males walk out of the store with a bag in hand.

You casually take another photo only to have someone completely photobomb it. It appears to be a girl younger than your crew and immediately your eyes widen in a slight panic. She’s being touchy with your boy.

“He was just recognized right now wasn’t he?” Midoriya questions.

You nod your head frantically ready to go fight the girl who looks to be thirteen, way too young to be thirsting after your best friend.

“No. This may be a tactic the government is using to-“ Todoroki stops talking as all three of you watch in slight horror and fascination on what is going on.

Kaminari is literally prying the girl off Shinsou. She’s screaming, making a huge scene, and refusing to let go of the purple-haired boy… She just elbowed Kaminari in the face.

“I LOVE YOUR MAPLESTORY VIDEOS! PLEASE HUG ME BACK!” Her voice is so loud it made your heart jump out of fright.

Midoriya is conflicted as he asks, “Do we um… go help defuse this?”

“We aren’t here and we don’t know them,” Todoroki replies with ease while reaching for Midoriya’s hand and the back of your shirt with the other.

Yeah, he knows everything. You were ready to go “scold” a child.

“This can be Kaminari’s test since he is a fellow fan of Shinsou,” Midoriya notes.

…He does have a point. This would be a wonderful test to see how far Kaminari will go for Shinsou. Plus, it’ll be interesting to watch… Todoroki lets go of both of you and already has his phone out recording this monstrosity.

Honestly, the whole thing got really weird and petty fast. Kaminari and the girl start a screaming match at each other. They are shouting which videos are the best and when they saw it. Finally, Kaminari grows a pair and stands up to the terrifying child.

“Listen- You are a baby. You stand no chance with him. He is on a God tier level,” Kaminari says.

He has the audacity to snap his fingers at her.

Instead of the tears, you were expecting, she goes crazy. She finally lets go of Shinsou and lunges herself at the poor now traumatized blond.

Before she can cause any damage a new and incredibly buff stranger appears. His voice is deep and honestly, you can see Kaminari having a heart attack as the stranger addresses him.

“You. Why are you upsetting my baby sister?”

OH GOD. Is this really about to get worse??

Todoroki thankfully stopped filming and is on board with defusing this now dangerous situation. He grew a heart seeing as Kaminari won’t have a pretty face if this continues on. Midoriya is the first to reveal that you are all here, by casually saying hello with a constipated look on his face.

You don’t blame him.

“Stay out of this squirts. I’m talking to Pikachu over here and I am not repeating myself.”

To your complete and utter surprise, Kaminari starts to laugh. Shinsou finally moves like he hasn’t been on pause this whole time and gives the guy and girl ten bucks each. He thanks them and they leave content.

“What just happened?” You ask voicing Midoriya’s thoughts.

Todoroki seems a bit annoyed as he mumbles, “I knew this was a ploy. I just thought it’d be by the government.”

“You should have seen your faces! How was my acting?” Kaminari questions in-between his laughing.

Shinsou just smirks as he states, “You really need to learn how to be better spies. Also, don’t voice your entire plan over breakfast.”

“…You are telling me you weren’t gone this morning? And that whole scene just now was all an act? Those were actors?” Midoriya is the one voicing your question now.

You feel quite stupid yet impressed when Shinsou nods.

“You gave me a fright. Anyway, I’m just happy that you two seem to be good for each other! Though, Kaminari, if you do anything to him that he doesn’t like, you will be answering to us personally!” You try to glare at him.

You just look like an angry teddy bear. Midoriya copied you and looks like an angry cinnamon roll. Thankfully, Todoroki actually looks menacing as he glares at the blond (mostly because he still believes he’s been abducted).

Shinsou finally wears that lazy smile on his face and says in a rather sincere voice, “Thank you guys for worrying about me.”

“Anytime, my sweet baby!” You pull him into a hug.

Shinsou continues as he makes eye contact with his boyfriend, “You heard them. You’ll after face them if you ever hurt me. Though, I should warn you that I carry sharp objects around for fun.”

Kaminari gulps out of nervousness for a second before he laughs. Yeah, he thinks Shinsou is joking but you know better. All that matters is that they seem to genuinely like each other now and that makes you happy for them.

#number neighbor #fanfiction #fanfiction of a fanfiction #oneshot #reader insert #todoroki shouto x midoriya izuku #shinsou hitoshi x kaminari denki #bnha #mha #boko no hero academia #cute #todoroki shōto #midoriya izuku #shinsou hitoshi #kaminari denki #bakugou is mentioned once lol #fluff

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emotchalla · 5 years ago

Text

Tempt You - V.

A/N: HELLO so I never thought I would finish this fucking part like I had all the ideas I just could not execute it??? I’m convinced this is still shit but I really wanted to post it, so here you are bbs! Quarantine has not given me that much inspo, unfortunately, but the sun has been out recently and I was motivated to get some writing done. ALSO, I just found out that Isiah’s name is actually Isiah and NOT Isaiah??? Like I just thought they pronounced it weird on the show bc Brummie accent but NO, that boy’s name is just Isiah. I’m so fucking shook lmao. ALSO ALSO, he’s a very hard character to write (pls be gentle!!!) because Stephen Knight literally gives us N O T H I N G and I could rant about how underutilized he is for DAYS but y’all did not come here for that! Enjoy the smut bbs!

**All my works are written with a Black or POC reader in mind, because I am one myself, but all readers welcome!**

Pairing: Modern!Michael Gray x Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet Isiah, Michael’s best friend. After a night of dancing and rounds of shots at the bar, you invite Michael back to yours, and well...

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol use, gratuitous Isiah flirting (I’m sorry; I love him!!!) NSFW content (fingering, oral [f receiving], protected sex, dirty talk, light choking), soft Dom!Michael x sub!reader, Fluff (he really likes you, so he’s sweet)

Word Count: 8.4k+ (I actually died while writing this and resurrected just to upload. You’re welcome.)

series masterlist | main masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here | listen to “tempt you (evocatio)” here | find the spotify playlist here

**GIF not mine**

The next two weeks pass as if they’ve really been no time at all, and it’s mostly due to the strides you and Michael have made in your relationship. Things aren’t official yet, and you try to not let it annoy you. You know that he’s busy; he called a few days ago to update you with the news that his client was in fact being framed, and he and the team had been able to break their witnesses just by cross-examining them. You knew he was intimidating, but this was proof on a completely different level. When you told Michael this, he told you that one of his cousins told him the only reason he’d been given his law license was because he scared the shit out of the test administrators for his LPC. You told him that said cousin was a genius, and he grumbled something about how of course you’d like fucking John, and you launched into your relentless teasing.

It was the first time the two of you had been able to do more than text since your special night. Not only was he busy with work, school was kicking your ass and your audition was right around the corner. Regardless, you both found ways to talk to each other. You kept up with the daily pictures, most of them tame, and when Michael had a spare minute away from the courtroom, you’d check in about your days. It was as normal as things could get for now, and while it sucked to not see Michael for a month, you knew the reunion would be worth it. He’d promised you as much.

It’s Friday night, Michael’s just won his case, and you’ve invited him to go dancing with Savvy and a guy she’s seeing. When Michael imagined a night with you—celebrating his big win and getting to see you for the first time in a literal month—he wasn’t imagining going out to a club and dancing the night away. Michael doesn’t dance. When he was younger, he was too busy snorting coke in the alleyways behind pubs to bother with the dance floor. He didn’t even dance at Tommy’s wedding. But Michael can’t say no to you. He tries to exercise restraint, he does, but there’s a part of him that likes giving you whatever you ask as soon as you ask for it. So dancing it is.

He wishes that if he had to take you to a club, it could be one that John or Isiah owns. At least he knows the environment, the people. He can blend in because their clubs are full of people he knows. It’d be nothing to sneak off with you and make good use of one of the VIP rooms. In a club run by, well, anyone else…Michael has to be on his guard. He doesn’t have control of what photo snapped in a dark corner ends up in some gossip mag’s inbox come Monday morning. The media follows the Shelbys and their progeny like vultures. Michael isn’t ready to expose you to that. Not yet. So maybe he might’ve asked Isiah to spontaneously visit from Birmingham and “happen to turn up” at the same club you’ll be at tonight. If you’re up for it, he’ll introduce the two of you. He knows you’ll get on immediately.

“Y/N, if you don’t fuck that man tonight I’ll be so disappointed,” Savvy says as she examines your reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You look so fucking good.”

You grin at her as you set the last curl in your hair. Nights that you went out were few and far between, so you tended to go all out when you had the chance. The dress you’ve chosen for the night is actually one of Savvy’s that she insisted would look better on you. It hugs you in all the right places, and your boobs look good. Some of your favorite moments with Michael so far have been ones where you’ve made him speechless, and you can’t wait to do it tonight.

“Oh I don’t know if we’ll go that far, Sav,” you shrug, barely believing yourself.

If Michael gave you the chance, you were going to take it.

“Bullshit! The man bought you lingerie and sex toys.”

“Just because he did all of that, it doesn’t mean he’s gonna wanna fuck tonight.”

“He’s absolutely going to want to fuck tonight.”

“Just because you’re always thinking about sex, doesn’t mean everyone else is!” you giggle, watching as Savvy’s jaw drops in fake indignation.

“Now listen here, bitch!”

You both giggle as you turn back to the mirror—you to finish your hair, and Savvy to apply her lipstick. The night had already started for the two of you; while visiting her sister in Paris, Savvy had gotten used to having a glass of champagne while getting ready for their nights out. She insisted that the two of you carry on the tradition. Your head is already starting to float, and a warmth has settled into your skin. Tonight will be a good night. The doorbell rings, signaling Oliver’s arrival. Oliver dances in the same ballet company that Savvy does, and they’ve started seeing each other. You like him well enough. He’s charming, good to Savvy, and incredibly fun to party with.

The club you’re going to is right around the corner from where you live, so you’re having Michael meet you there. He’s had a hell of a month, and you want tonight to be a night where he can unwind. Although he’d won the case, he had a massive pile of work waiting for him in the office, so it’d be a bit before he could join you.

“I’ll go get Oliver. You finish up in here,” Savvy says, throwing you a wink over her shoulder as she leaves the bathroom.

You nod, and return your gaze to the mirror. Maybe Savvy is right about tonight. You’re tempted to snap a picture of your outfit to send to Michael, but you decide to let him be surprised when he sees you. You plan to drive him as wild as he’ll let you. If that means all the way…well, you’re ready to make this night worth it. Savvy’s giggle comes from the living room as she laughs at some joke Oliver’s just said, and you smile to yourself. She deserves to be happy.

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror before grabbing your phone and leaving the bathroom to join Savvy and Oliver.

“There she is!” Oliver greets, giving you a warm smile as you enter the living room.

“It’s good to see you!”

You give him a quick hug before he pulls away to give you a once-over. He nods, grinning at you.

“You two didn’t come to fuck around tonight, aye? You look fantastic, Y/N.”

You giggle, knocking your shoulder with his.

“Have I told you lately that you’re my favorite person Savvy’s ever dated?”

“You tell me every time you see me, but that doesn’t mean I ever want you to stop. I love the validation.”

“You sure Savvy’s the Prima ballerina and not you?”

Oliver cracks up, and soon you’re laughing with him. Savvy rolls her eyes in fake annoyance, grumbling to herself about how much she wishes you hated Oliver, so you wouldn’t talk so much. You all know she doesn’t mean it; she couldn’t be happier that two of her favorite people are fond of one another. It makes her feel like this can really go somewhere.

“Come on,” Oliver says, turning to wrap an arm around Savvy’s waist. “Let’s get out of here while you two have control of your limbs.”

Savvy’s the one to mouth off to him this time, and you shake your head as they begin to tease each other back and forth. It’s still warm enough outside that you don’t need a jacket, but you drape one over your shoulders just in case. You chat idly with Savvy and Oliver on your walk to the club. Still, your thoughts are entirely elsewhere. You can’t wait to see Michael tonight. It’s a bit strange to have moved so quickly, but you also find it exhilarating. Michael is unlike anyone you’ve ever met, and it makes him the most interesting man in the world.

There’s already a line starting to stretch around the corner when you reach The Lilac Room. Oliver whistles under his breath.

“It’s usually never this bad. Maybe someone’s making an appearance.”

You and Savvy both shrug as you follow him toward the large black doors lined with lavender UVs. He nods toward the bouncer, who immediately smiles at him in recognition. Another perk of Savvy dating Oliver? His older brother owned a series of nightclubs all across the city. Any time the two of you wanted a night out, you had your pick of venues, free drinks, and enough security personnel who knew who you were connected to to ensure that you had a night of stress-free dancing. No creepy men trying to buy you drinks and convince you to head back to his flat for the night. Just pure, uninterrupted fun. It made you wish you had more time to actually go out.

The moment you’re inside the club, you’re itching to make a beeline for the illuminated dance floor in the center of the room. Savvy and Oliver steer you toward a VIP booth instead, where a waiter is already waiting to take your drink orders.

“Why are we sitting? We came to dance!” you whine as Savvy urges you into the booth with a nudge of her hip.

Oliver merely chuckles before leaning over to the waiter to order your first round of drinks for the night. Mojitos for you and Savvy, a finger of scotch for Oliver, and for Michael—

“What do you think your guy would like, Y/N?” Oliver asks, a slight twinkle in his eye.

You think he and Michael will get along quite well. Sadly, you don’t know enough about Michael to know his favorites, but he told you during some late night phone call or another that on really rough days, he’d lock himself in his office and nurse a bottle of whiskey. His cousin Tommy’s, if he had it. As long as it could get him drunk, he wouldn’t complain.

“Whiskey, neat, I’m thinking,” you tell him, and Oliver’s face breaks out into a grin.

“I like him already,” he says, before turning back to the waiter.

You turn toward Savvy.

“I think he and Michael are gonna get along a little too well,” you sigh.

She nods.

“I think Ollie’s gonna like your boy more than you do.”

You share a laugh before Oliver comes back over.

“If you two want to check out the dance floor now feel free to. I’ll wait here for the drinks.”

Savvy leans over to give him a quick kiss.

“You’re the best,” she murmurs against his lips, and you don’t miss the way Oliver’s eyes sparkle when they look at her.

Savvy grabs your hand then, and you both head to the dance floor. Almost immediately, you’re surrounded by a group of other dancing bodies, and you feel the stress of the past month give way with every thump of the bass. You can lose yourself here. You and Savvy quickly fall into your usual pattern, bodies moving along to the music steadily pumping through the club’s speakers as you’re gently jostled toward the center of the dance floor. Savvy throws her arms across your shoulders as the two of you giggle and dance even closer together. It’s easy to fall into rhythm with Savvy, and you toss your head back as she twirls you around. Savvy leans in close to your face.

“There’s a guy watching you over at the bar,” she whispers, turning you around to catch the briefest glimpse of him before spinning you to face her again.

You grin and shake your head.

“How do you know he’s not watching you?”

Savvy rolls her eyes.

“Because I pay attention,” she scoffs. “Go talk to him.”

You raise an eyebrow at her.

“Michael will be here any minute.”

“And? You’re still single and you look hot tonight. I think you can flirt with a rando at a bar without him worrying about being mugged off.”

“Oh Savvy I don’t know,” you sigh. “I really like him.”

Savvy rolls her eyes.

“I know you do, Y/N, but you’ve also had a shit month and you’re wound tighter than a fucking spring! You can have fun, let the very hot guy at the bar buy you a drink, and then come back and dance with me until your sugar daddy boyfriend gets here, okay?”

“He’s not my sugar daddy Savvy,” you correct.

“Again, I call bull. But stop stalling and get your ass over to the bar.”

She gently pushes you in the bar’s general direction, and you shake your head at her antics, mustering up the courage to approach the stranger across the room whose eyes you can now see are trained on your every move. There’s something familiar about him almost immediately, but you can’t place it. He smirks as he watches you approach, leaning back into the bar with an ease that’s natural. He moves like Michael does, you think. He moves like he owns the place. You’d believe he did, if you didn’t know Oliver’s brother personally. As you get closer to the stranger, you watch his eyes widen at the sight of you. You take a seat at the bar, leaving enough distance between you and him that if he wants to talk, he’ll have to come over to you. You glance at him over your shoulder before motioning toward the bartender, hoping the stranger will take the hint.

“Ice water, please,” you ask the bartender.

You want to keep your wits about you.

“Are you here with anyone?”

You turn toward the voice that’s warmer than you expected. The stranger smiles at you, full lips stretching across white teeth, and your stomach does somersaults. He’s gorgeous in the way that models are, and has the warmest brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I-I am, yeah. Well, waiting for someone,” you stammer, a bit taken aback.

He frowns, but gives you a small nod.

“Can’t say I’m pleased to hear it, though it’s what I expected,” he drawls, luring you in almost immediately.

Woah. His voice is like honey—warm and smooth, and a bit dark too—and you instantly know that this man knows what he’s doing. To prove it, he smirks at you as the next words tumble from his mouth.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous so of course you’ve got someone. Although I will say, he seems like a pretty shit guy to leave a girl like you alone tonight.”

Chatty, too, you think to yourself, amused by him already. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he leans across the bar to extend his hand.

“I’m Isiah.”

“Y/N,” you say, taking his hand to shake it. “I’m surprised you let me get a word in.”

Isiah laughs loud enough for the whole bar to hear, and sure enough, some patrons turn to glance your way before going back to their own business. If Michael shows up to the club before you’ve made it back to Savvy, you hope he won’t get the wrong idea.

“It’s a shame you are seeing someone,” he chuckles. “It’s not often you find a girl that’s both good to look at and to talk to.”

From the cheeky glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s just chatting, but you don’t resist the urge to take the bait and light him up a bit.

“Well maybe if you weren’t an ass that only approached girls because you liked the look of them, you’d find that most of us are able to hold a conversation.”

You wink at him as the bartender brings over your water, and reaches to replace Isiah’s glass of whiskey. Isiah turns toward you, a soft smile on his lips.

“You’re right. That was a bit of a dick thing to say. Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”

You roll your eyes playfully at his question. Quite the charmer, this one.

“I did tell you I was waiting for someone,” you tease.

“I know,” he says. “I just want to buy you a drink. Promise.”

You take a minute to get a good look at him. He’s a beautiful man, you’ve gathered that already. Smooth, warm brown skin and even browner, sparkling eyes. He might be one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen.

“Sure,” you say. “I’ll take a mojito.”

He grins at you before giving you a quick nod and placing your order with the bartender. Put anything she orders on my tab, you hear him say, and you marvel at the gesture. It’s a shame that you can’t actually flirt with him like you’d really like to.

“So where’re you from?” he asks.

“The States. Chicago. I moved here for grad school. What about you?”

“Birmingham,” he answers, and your eyes light with recognition.

“I thought I recognized your accent.”

Isiah stares back at you, incredulous. How would you know his accent?

“You been there before?”

“No,” you begin, shaking your head. “My boyf—er, friend’s from there.”

Did you just slip up and almost call Michael your boyfriend? Shit. You’re in this deeper than you thought. Isiah nods.

“Ah, well he’s got good taste.”

“In what?”

“Girls and hometowns.”

His goofiness surprises you, and you let a giggle slip from your lips. Isiah’s eyes light at the sound.

“What a pretty laugh,” he sighs.

You thank him sweetly, and he mutters under his breath about how unfair it is that you’re basically spoken for, because you’re fucking perfect. The bartender brings your drinks, and when Isiah hands you your glass, goosebumps rise on your skin as your fingertips graze his. You take the opportunity to gaze at him while you sip your drink, watching as he loses himself in your eyes. It’s good to know that he feels it too. This pull—magnetic, almost. Instinctively, he leans closer, and your breath catches in your throat. Before either of you can do anything you’ll eventually regret, you feel an arm wrap around your waist.

“There you are.”

Michael. Thankfully, Isiah registers his presence before Michael notices that he’s been flirting with you.

“I should’ve known she was your girl,” Isiah chuckles, shaking his head.

“I should’ve known the two of you would find each other without me having to introduce you.”

Your eyes widen as you look back and forth between the two of them.

“You know each other?”

They both laugh, nodding at you. Michael’s eyes are bright as he looks down to give you a soft smile.

“Isiah’s my best mate, basically my brother. We’ve been friends since we were teens,” he says. “He’s also the only person I know, besides my cousin John, that’s cheekier than you.”

You roll your eyes at the last bit, which only makes him laugh.

“You’re lucky I’ve missed you, you ass.”

He chuckles and pulls you close to press a kiss to your temple.

“Mm, I’ve missed you too,” he hums, giving your waist a quick squeeze before pulling away to turn to his friend. “Do you mind if I stay and chat to Isiah for a bit? You can head back to Savvy if you’d like, I’ll join you soon.”

You nod, and turn to Isiah.

“It was really great to meet you. Thank you for the drink! It’s good to know Michael actually has friends,” you quip, offering him a sweet smile.

He grins.

“It was great to meet you too, Y/N. I’ll see you ‘round, yeah?”

You nod, and give him a small wave goodbye before heading over to Savvy and Oliver who have made themselves comfortable in the booth you’ve been given for the night.

“Holy shit Sav,” you gush, as soon as you’re within earshot. “So that was Michael’s best friend.”

Savvy’s eyes look like they’re about to bulge out of her skull.

“What??” she asks, incredulous.

“I didn’t know it until Michael came over and actually introduced us, but yeah. God, I’m a little embarrassed. I need another drink.”

Oliver’s eyebrows raise at that.

“Shots?”

You nod quickly.

“Hell yes. Shots.”

He smirks at you. How Savvy managed to find a boyfriend that’s essentially your carbon copy is something you’ll never figure out, but you don’t even mind. Thank the universe for Oliver.

“I’ll head over to the bar now then.”

“You’re my favorite person. You know that, right?”

“It gets better every time you tell me!”

You both giggle at yourselves, and Savvy rolls her eyes.

“You two are obnoxious,” she whines.

“We know,” Oliver says, leaning over to press a sweet kiss to her mouth.

He grabs the glass of whiskey you ordered for Michael and heads toward the bar. As soon as he’s gone, Savvy turns toward you, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Spill.”

“You’re such a gossip, you know that Sav?”

“Stop stalling!”

You sigh, glancing over at the bar to see Oliver engaged in lively conversation with Michael and Isiah, and you smile to yourself.

“He was really, really nice,” you begin. “And funny, and sweet, and basically if I wasn’t already somewhat-dating his best friend I would’ve had no problem letting him take me home tonight.”

Savvy’s jaw drops.

“Shut up.”

“I know.”

“You weren’t even over there for that long!”

You nod in agreement.

“That’s why it’s so bizarre. I don’t know, Sav, it just felt…good to talk to him. Comfortable, I guess.”

“Hmm,” Savvy muses. “You could always date them both.”

“Savvy!”

“You could! It’s 2020, Y/N.”

“I know I can, smartass,” you say, rolling your eyes. “But I’m pretty sure that’s not Michael’s thing.”

You can see the wheels turning in her drama obsessed brain.

“Threesome?”

“Savvy!”

You can’t control the laugh that escapes your mouth, and soon Savvy is laughing with you. When Michael and Oliver return to your booth—a round of shots for each of you in their hands—you’re still recovering from the fit of giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Oliver asks, and you and Savvy quickly shake your heads.

“Oh it’s nothing, babe! Just being silly,” she says, reaching for one of the shots in his hand.

Michael slides into the booth next to you, setting the drinks down on the table. When he turns toward you, you feel the heat of his gaze immediately.

“Hi,” he breathes, leaning forward to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

His hand lingers on your skin, fingers ghosting along the back of your neck. He resists the urge to tug you toward him and press a kiss to your lips, mostly because he can’t kiss you the way he’d like to in public. Not while he’s still this sober, anyway.

“Hi,” you echo, leaning into his touch.

“You don’t know how good it is to see you after the month I’ve had.”

“Hmm, you should show me then, Gray,” you smirk, reaching for the shot glasses.

“Trouble,” he murmurs, accepting the shot you offer him.

Savvy and Oliver turn toward you then, and the four of you toast glasses before tossing back your shots. Tequila. It burns your throat on the way down, and you shake your head as your body adjusts to the sting. Michael slides a glass of water your way, and you give him a grateful smile before taking a sip.

“We’re going to go dance!” Savvy announces, tugging on Oliver’s hand.

As she leads him out of the booth, she turns to give you and Michael a quick wink over her shoulder. Michael chuckles as you shake your head at Savvy’s antics.

“I, for one, am incredibly grateful for your roommate,” he says, sliding closer to you.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” you ask bemusedly.

A slow grin spreads across Michaels lips as he leans forward to cup the back of your head. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Because now I get to do this,” he purrs, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is softer than you expected, and you sigh into Michael’s mouth as he keeps his kisses slow. His fingers curl along your jaw to pull you closer.

“Michael,” you sigh against his mouth, fully leaning into his touch.

His other hand presses against your waist—and as your kisses quicken, Michael’s thumb rubs gentle circles into the bit of exposed skin at your stomach.

“I really like this dress,” he murmurs, allowing the tip of his thumb to graze the underside of your breast.

He runs his tongue along your bottom lip before sucking it between his teeth. Your hands tangle in his hair, and soon, you completely forget your surroundings. It’s definitely been too long since you’ve last kissed him, and if his actions tonight have been any indication: Michael feels the same way.

“We should go dance, you know,” you whisper against his lips, making no move to actually pull away.

“We’ll get there, eventually,” he counters, kissing you again.

You don’t protest when he slips his tongue in your mouth. His fingers trace your jaw, then your collarbone before finally coming to rest against your throat. He doesn’t apply pressure, but they rest there, and you feel a knot beginning to build in your stomach. Michael pulls away to look into your eyes then, fingers still pressed to your neck.

“I’m so tempted to say fuck it and let’s head back to mine, but I think Savvy’d have my head for that.”

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or Michael himself, but your head’s already buzzing. You nod, giving him a timid smile before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“She definitely would.”

“You’re a giddy drunk,” he teases, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest.

“I’m not drunk, yet,” you quip. “I’m just happy to see you. And maybe slightly tipsy.”

“Mmm,” he hums. “I’m happy to see you too. So happy, in fact, that I brought you a present.”

“Michael,” you start to protest.

“You’ll like this one, Y/N. I promise.”

He pulls away from you to pull something out of his jacket, and you try not to frown at the loss of contact. He hands you a plain white envelope. You look back at him, and urges you to open it. You recognize the print of the ticket stubs immediately. Shakespeare’s Globe. Titus Andronicus. Standing tickets. So he had listened to your rant about the best way to experience a show there. The smile on your face is likely enormous and stupid, but you can’t be bothered to care. You turn toward him to find him already grinning back at you.

“Did you go to my job and buy tickets for a show?”

He nods.

“I promised you that I’d let you take me to one.”

“I could have probably gotten them for free, you know?”

“I know,” he says. “But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see that look on your face.”

You lean forward to press a kiss to his lips. He gasps against your mouth, and you wrap an arm around the back of his neck to pull him closer. It’s unbelievably sweet of him to have thought of you and your job, especially amidst his own responsibilities. You’ve managed to catch him off guard by kissing him first, and Michael groans low in his throat as you card your fingers through his hair.

“Let’s go dance,” you whisper hotly against his mouth. “And then, I want you to take me home.”

Around shot four or five, Savvy suggests body shots. You’re beyond tipsy at this point—solidly drunk is more like it— and any idea that comes out of her mouth sounds like a good one in this state. At any rate, it’ll give Michael even more of an excuse to touch you. You’ve returned to your booth for a slight break from dancing. Michael holds his liquor much better than you do, but even he’s considerably under the influence. He’s taken off his jacket, and he watches as your fingers idly trace the buttons that line his torso. You’ve been glued to one another all night. Michael expected to hate dancing, but quickly found that it’s hard to hate anything that gives him an excuse to press your body to his in public. You’re a good dancer too.

Savvy and Oliver return to the table with a plate of limes and a pair of salt shakers, and Michael’s eyes darken with an idea. You watch him, curiously, as he reaches toward one of the shot glasses.

“Grab a lime, Y/N,” he instructs, reaching for the salt.

You do as he says, watching him with bright eyes.

“Now put it between those pretty lips of yours.”

You don’t miss the suggestive nature of his tone, and you smirk at him as you raise the lime slice to your mouth. You part your lips slightly, watching as Michael’s eyes zero in on them.

“Y/N,” he warns.

“Relax. I’m putting it in my mouth right now,” you tease, laughing at your own cheek before popping the lime slice between your lips.

Michael rolls his eyes but leans his face close to whisper in your ear.

“Tilt you head back, and stay still for me, yeah?”

You nod, before doing what he asks. Michael leans forward to press a kiss to your throat. You gasp, and as your body starts to lurch forward Michael’s hand is firm at your back.

“Easy,” he murmurs.

He trails kisses from your neck to your collarbone, coming to rest at the slight peaks of your breasts exposed by your dress. Michael doesn’t hesitate to lick a stripe of skin, and cold air touches your skin for only a moment before you feel the sprinkle of salt. A hand cups the back of your head and tilts you forward to meet Michael’s dark, green eyes.

“I should probably take that shot,” you hear him say, but you’re still focused on his eyes.

Michael takes the shot without even wincing. When he leans forward to lick at the salt on your chest, he holds your eyes. He trails kisses up your neck until you can feel his breath along your jaw. Your breath catches as he leans forward to pluck the lime from your lips. When you grab at his shirt and pull him back in to kiss you, you can taste the tequila still on his tongue. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you remember that you aren’t entirely alone, so you don’t kiss Michael like you’d like to. Instead, you pull away to look into his eyes.

“I want to go home.”

He nods.

“Okay. Let’s go, then.”

You make quick work of saying goodbye to Savvy and Oliver, who plan on staying out “just a bit longer.” Michael makes a call, and then the two of you make your way toward the exit. The night is quiet outside of The Lilac Room, and as the two of you stumble toward your apartment, you’re grateful for the fresh air. Michael holds your hand as you make the short walk back to your apartment, listening to you chat idly about your upcoming audition and a recent conversation you’d had with one of your professors. He waits until you’re both inside your apartment to pull you close, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I missed you so much,” he sighs, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know it’s odd, seeing as we haven’t known each other long at all, but I did. I really did.”

You smile at him, reaching up to cup one of his cheeks.

“I missed you too, Michael.”

“Can I kiss you, gorgeous?”

“You know you can, Mr. Gray.”

“My cheeky girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours.

This kiss is needier than you expected, but you lean into Michael’s touch. You stumble back toward your bedroom, tugging at his shirt to keep his lips pressed to yours. Thankfully, you left your door open before heading out, so you and Michael easily slip inside your room. He takes a second to pull away and shut the door behind you before leading you over to your bed. He kisses you again, and you let his hands guide you to lay back onto your bed. Michael follows your body, coming to settle between your thighs. You hook your legs around his waist, and Michael chuckles, pulling his mouth from yours.

“Not tonight, Y/N.”

You frown, looking up at him.

“Why not?”

“Don’t pout,” he chides. “We’ve both been drinking. I don’t think either of us have got a clear enough head to be making that decision.”

“Fuck, why are you so nice?” you whine, flopping back onto your pillows.

Michael chuckles and rolls off of you. He sits up to kick off his shoes, then reaches forward to unstrap your heels.

“‘M only nice to you,” he insists.

You sit up onto your elbows and look at him.

“Help me out of this dress?”

He nods and offers a hand to you.

“Come ‘ere.”

Michael helps you off of the bed and turns you around to get the zipper at your back. You slip the dress off of your shoulders, and Michael hands you the oversized t-shirt you have thrown at the foot of your bed. You slip it over your head and instruct Michael to check in your drawers for a set of sweat pants that would probably fit him. You head to the bathroom to brush your teeth and give him time to change, being sure to grab a bottle of ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet before heading back to your room. Michael smiles at you when you come in, arms reaching to pull you close.

“Let’s go to bed,” he hums drowsily, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You crawl under your covers, feeling Michael’s body follow close behind. He cradles you in his arms, pressing your back to his chest. He leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder before settling into your pillows.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he mumbles, already drifting to sleep.

You smile as you close your eyes, relaxing against his chest.

“Goodnight Michael.”

You’re a goddess first thing in the morning, Michael thinks. He hasn’t always been an early bird, but he’s grown so used to mornings in court that it’s become a second nature. What he isn’t used to, is waking up in someone else’s bed. Sleeping next to a woman he hasn’t fucked. It’s odd how at home he feels with an arm slung around your waist and your cheek pressed to his chest. He keeps his breathing light, not want to disturb your sleep, not yet. He’d rather just hold you close while he ignores the headache starting to creep in at his temples. A quick glance over to your bedside table reminds him of the bottle of painkillers you set out before the two of you headed to bed, and Michael thanks the heavens that you’re bloody brilliant. He needs water though, and you will too when you wake.

Slowly, he eases out from under you, waiting until you’ve settled against the pillows before he climbs out of your bed and heads toward the kitchen. There’s no sign of Savvy or Oliver, and he makes quick work of finding two glasses. He runs the tap until it’s cold, then fills up a cup for each of you before heading back to your room. He finds you splayed out against the pillows, starfish style. Cute, he thinks, ambling toward your nightstand. He’s careful to keep the bottle still, so the rattling of the pills inside don’t wake you up. Michael fishes two ibuprofen for both of you before setting the bottle back on the table and climbing into bed. Gently, he wraps an arm around your shoulder to shake you awake. You feel the soft press of lips against your temples, and smile in your sleepy haze.

“Wake up, pretty girl,” Michael coos, chuckling as you curl further into his chest.

“Mmm, don’t wanna,” you mumble, shaking your head.

“Come on, Y/N,” he laughs. “I wanna see your eyes. Please?”

His hands trace up and down your back as he presses slow kisses to your neck. Your body is certainly awake now, but you keep your eyes closed to draw out Michael’s teasing. He kisses his way up your neck and across your jaw, until his mouth reaches your earlobe.

“Wake up, Y/N,” he grunts, nibbling at your ear with his teeth.

Your eyes shoot open as a soft gasp leaves your lips, and Michael settles over you.

“There she is,” he hums, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips.

You smile against his mouth as you kiss him back, pulling him closer with a hand at the nape of his neck. Michael’s hips settle in between your thighs, and your legs wrap around his waist. Just like last night, you think. You can’t believe this is finally happening.

“Wait wait,” Michael breathes, pulling away to sit back on his legs.

“Again?” you groan, sitting up to glare at him.

Michael smirks at you as he leans over toward your nightstand, reaching for a glass of water and the painkillers you set out last night. He pushes them into your hands before grabbing some of his own. Michael downs the medicine and the water before setting the glass down. His hands find your thighs, and his thumbs rub slow circles on your skin as he looks into your eyes.

“Take those and drink the entire glass, and I’ll make you feel good,” he whispers, voice low.

You don’t miss the heat in his eyes. Michael watches as you take the medicine and drink all of your water, thumbs continuing to stroke the insides of your thighs. As soon as you finish, Michael leans forward to wrap an arm around your back. He takes the glass from your hand and sets it down. His hands trail up from your thighs and catch the hem of your t-shirt. He lifts it over your head before tossing it over his shoulder.

“Lean back onto your pillows,” he instructs, following your body with his.

Michael slots his lips over yours, immediately dipping his tongue into your mouth. Eager to have his lips on yours again, you curl your fingers into his hair to keep his mouth close. Michael’s hands grip your waist, as you raise your hips to wrap your legs around his waist, caging him in once again. Michael smirks against your mouth.

“I’m starting to get the hint that this is a favorite position of yours,” he hums, hands sliding down to massage the globes of your ass.

“Michael,” you sigh, leaning your head back as his kisses trail toward your neck.

“I can’t wait to taste you, pretty girl,” he whispers against your skin, hands trailing up to tug your panties over your ass and down your legs.

Michael pulls away briefly to admire the sight of you naked before him.

“You look perfect,” he sighs, reaching down to palm himself through his sweats.

“Thank you, Sir,” you whisper.

Michael grins at you, reaching forward to cup your cheek in his palm.

“You gonna be good for me?”

You nod quickly, back arching when you feel one of his hands slip between your legs. He groans low in his throat when he feels you practically dripping for him already.

“Fuck,” he hisses, watching through lidded eyes as he slides one finger into your slick heat. “You’re fucking wet.”

He peppers hot kisses against the base of your throat as he slowly works his finger, thumb coming up to rub soft circles on your clit.

“Sh-Shit,” you whimper, as Michael sucks a mark onto your collarbone.

“Tell me how it feels,” he mumbles, adding another finger.

“So good,” you gasp. “Fuck, Michael!”

He fucks you slow with his fingers, curling them slightly to reach even deeper before dragging them out again. His tongue laps at the mark he’s made, dark eyes watching you as you struggle to collect your words.

“It feels good,” you whine.

It’s all you can manage.

“Just good?” he hums. “Sounds like I should make it even better, yeah?”

You nod, watching as he trails his kisses down the center of your chest, over your stomach and upper thighs before coming to rest at their apex. He leans down to rest on his elbows, face to face with his fingers sliding in and out of you.

“Can I have a taste?” he asks, licking his bottom lip as his eyes zero in on your wetness.

“Please, Sir,” you beg, hands already finding their place in his hair.

Michael flattens his tongue against you before licking a long stripe up your clit, pulling a beautiful moan from your lips. He laps at the pool of wetness that has started to gather on his fingers, and gazes up at you to watch you begin to unravel at his touch. There’s a pressure building in the pit of your stomach, and as Michael curls his fingers to brush against that spot, you start to see stars.

“Oh fuck,” you whine as he wraps his lips around your clit.

Michael sucks, hard, pulling a squeal from your lips.

“Such pretty noises, baby,” he moans, watching you in awe.

You’ve never seen someone look at you with equal parts lust and admiration, but Michael gazes up at you as if you’re something divine. You feel yourself start to clench around his fingers, and Michael groans against you. He keeps his free hand at your hip, anchoring himself as he gets lost in you. He closes his eyes as he sucks harder, fingers pumping at a steady rhythm to bring you closer to the edge. You can feel your legs beginning to shake, and you tug at Michael’s hair.

“Sir, please,” you gasp, back arching as Michael curls his fingers again.

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum.”

“Go ahead,” he grunts, closing his lips around your clit again.

Your resolve snaps, and you gasp Michael’s name as you cum on his fingers. He slips his fingers out of you only to replace them with his tongue, fucking you slowly through your orgasm. You open your eyes to see him smiling up at you, mouth slick with your release. Michael presses soft kisses to your clit as your body settles from the aftershocks of your orgasm. He kisses up your body until he’s face to face with you, eyes lighting at your flushed cheeks.

“I’ve been waiting entirely too long to do that,” is the first thing he says, and you’re too blissed out to come up with one of your usual witty comebacks.

Instead, you reach for his wrist and pull his fingers—still wet with your cum—and slip them into your mouth. Michael groans as you slip your tongue in between them, keeping your eyes on his.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he whispers, unable to look away from your plump lips as his fingers slip in and out and in and out.

He growls when your teeth graze his skin. One of Michael’s hands curls beneath your jaw, and he pulls you forward to straddle his hips. You let go of his fingers with an audible pop, staring into his lust-blown eyes.

“Are you gonna fuck me now, Mr. Gray?” you ask sweetly, trailing a hand down his chest to slip into his sweatpants.

He’s hard and heavy in your hand, and you give him a few gentle strokes as you watch his resolve begin to break. A muscle ticks in Michael’s jaw, and his hand on your jaw slides down to wrap gently around your throat.

“I am,” he growls, wrapping his other hand around your wrist to stop your movements.

He instructs you to lay back, standing up to slip his sweats and boxers off of his hips and down his legs. You direct him over to the box of condoms nestled in a drawer under your bedside table, and you watch with hungry eyes as he slips the latex over his length. He’s bigger than you expected, and you watch him smirk as he registers the surprise in your eyes. Before you can start to genuinely ask him if he’ll actually fit, Michael covers his mouth with yours. One of his hands directs your arms above your head, and he latches onto your wrists to hold them there.

“Please fuck me,” you whimper against his lips.

“Easy,” he chuckles, trailing a hand to the inside of your thigh to spread your legs wider for him. “I’ve got you.”

He takes himself in his hand, rubbing the head of his cock against your folds. You whine, bucking your hips toward the touch, desperate for friction.

“Please,” you sigh.

“You can have whatever you want when you beg me like that,” Michael groans, pushing himself forward to slip inside of you.

He takes his time to make sure you feel him inch by inch, sucking on your bottom lip with his tongue. He stills when he finally bottoms out, groaning low in his throat as you clench around his cock.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he murmurs.

“So do you,” you sigh, tossing your head back as he begins to move his hips.

Michael keeps his thrusts slow, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist to pull him in deeper. His hand slips between the two of you to rub slow circles at your clit, and Michael lifts his mouth from yours to look into your eyes.

“You’re squeezing the shit out of my cock, baby,” he groans as he continues his lazy thrusts, face falling to the crook of your neck.

Michael places hot, open-mouthed kisses to your skin as he continues to work you open, spurred on by the soft moans leaving your lips with every thrust of his hips. It’s slow, sleepy morning sex, and you lose yourself in the feeling of Michael getting to know your body for the first time. It feels delicious, the pleasure he’s bringing you, and as he brings you closer toward your release you find yourself getting lost even further in his touch. You start to work your hips against his, and Michael’s hands grip your ass to pull you even closer.

“Fuck baby, look at you,” he coos. “Fucking your perfect little pussy on my cock. You’re such a good girl.”

His hand at your clit rubs the slightest bit faster, and you gasp as one of Michael’s hands returns to your throat.

“I’m-I’m gonna—” your breath hitches in your throat, but Michael nods, understanding.

He gives your throat a gentle squeeze as he feels your body tense, signaling the approach of your climax.

“Cum for me sweet girl,” he murmurs, staring hungrily at you as your body begins to unravel.

“Oh my god,” you whine as your orgasm takes you by surprise, gazing wide-eyed at Michael as he continues to fuck you through it.

“Shit, that feels good,” he hums, pistoning his hips a bit faster to chase his own release.

Your hands scrape along his back as you feel yourself on the edge of another, smaller orgasm, and you clench around Michael’s cock as his hips stutter. He’s close.

“Come on my cock, Y/N,” he hisses, burying his face into the pillow behind you.

You let go. Michael’s body freezes as he’s struck with his own orgasm, and your name falls from his lips as he feels you squeeze him again. Absolutely perfect, he whispers into your skin, soft kiss after soft kiss up and down the column of your neck. He’s gorgeous in his post-orgasm glow, and you card your fingers through his hair as he catches his breath. You whine when he pulls his hips from yours, but he settles back onto the pillows to pull you onto his chest.

“You’re everything I have ever wanted,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Hmm, everything?” you sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his mouth before pulling away to look into his eyes.

“Everything,” he confirms, brushing his fingers across your cheek.

“Well thank you,” you say, surprised at his sudden tenderness.

Michael gazes at you softly as you look down at him, green eyes shining with a fondness you suspect he’s reserved only for you.

“Can I ask you something?”

He breaks eye contact, staring down at his hands.

“What is it, Michael?”

He takes a breath before looking up at you again, determination in his eyes.

“I don’t want to rush you, especially since last night was technically only our second date, but I was thinking, and wondering if maybe you’d like to—”

“Yes,” you interrupt, watching as the smile builds on Michael’s face.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” he smirks, leaning forward to touch his forehead to yours.

“Didn’t need to,” you hum. “I’ve been waiting too long for you to ask me out, officially, Gray.”

He’ll never get tired of that mouth of yours.

“Oh you have, hm?” he asks, pressing a hot kiss to your lips.

You can feel him beginning to stir again between your legs, and you smirk against his mouth.

“I have. You sure took your time.”

He chuckles and kisses you again, slipping his arms around you to cradle to close to his chest.

“Let’s go take a shower,” he suggests, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder.

His head lolls lazily on his shoulders as he gazes up to look at you, running his tongue across his bottom lip.

“And then we can come back to bed so I can really fuck you like you’re mine.”

“You’re on, Mr. Gray,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you from the bed and carries you toward the bathroom.

His, you muse. You could get used to this.

reblogging later with tags. wanna be tagged in this fic? click the link above! (do not send me an ask! click the link!)

#michael gray smut #michael gray au #michael gray #modern michael gray #michael gray x reader #peaky blinders au #peaky blinders smut #emotchalla writes

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onlynight-onlylight · 4 years ago

Text

Encounter

Words: 2,6K

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slice of life, Stranger to lover (?)

Summary: You will never know when and where love comes to you. Moreover when it comes from a perfect man that everyone adores.

Note: I’m surprised myself when writing this short fic of Jin. I didn’t expect the story to be like this haha. I write this for Jin’s birthday which is next week!!! And this is my first time to write after a looooong time so I hope it’s not too awkward.

Dani: Are you free today?

The very first message I check in the morning comes from my best friend. I make sure that today is Saturday before I send a reply.

Me: Yeah. Why?

Dani: I bet you haven’t check the group chat yet. Seonho asks us to meet today, reunion with hidden agenda I guess.

I open an active group chat consists of my high school friends. We actually don’t talk often but we always give each others’ updates to maintain good relationship. I scroll a little bit because everyone is sending message. When I see a picture, I finally understand the hidden agenda Dani’s told me just now. Seonho is getting married. Seonho, my biggest crush during high school.

“Are you coming?” Seokyung & Dani are on the way to the café. Some of friends will meet today, for the sake of reunion, and for early celebration of Seonho’s wedding. These girls have been my up and down when trying my best to keep my secret crush hidden. I’ve said to them many times that the silly crush is gone now, but I can’t lie that something does feel strange. And now they unnecessary worry about me.

“Of course. Call me again when you arrive, I’m at the nearby park.”

“Going out with your camera again?”

“Yes. I don’t want to waste a good day like this”

“Okay. Don’t stay under the sun too long”

I walk around the park, following the line of trees. It’s getting warmer as welcoming spring season but sometime the wind is still too cold for me. I take some pictures when find something that catch my eyes. It’s always entertaining to watch people’s interaction. I often sit alone and enjoy the breeze. It helps me clearing my mind when days feel too rough. Sometimes, I get bonus to see beautiful faces for my camera to catch. Just like that one particular man who just walks out from the café. He must be model or actor to have that gorgeous face and perfect proportion.

I take few pictures of him. I know they will turn out good even though I don’t take its properly. It’s surely not because I’m a good photographer but the object. It makes me smile. It will be nice to get this kind of pictures every time I shoot.

*Dani calling*

It’s time to be back to reality.

I make a promise earlier that whatever happened today it won’t break me down, not again. I might like him in the past but it’s all in the past. He will forever see me as a friend and I know that from the very start. I know it well. But it’s just I get a closure that I needed today when I get his wedding invitation. I can hold it well in front of him and my friends. But somehow, a tear escapes from my eye.

I look at the film camera I bring today. I want to make memories with them, with Seonho too, using his camera so I cannot have second thought after the photo taken and delete it. This should be one of ways for me to toughen myself and be true to my own words. I’ve done liking Seonho and only see him as a friend.

I still have 5 frames to go. I take a deep breath and snap a shot of the upper part of the building together with the clear sky. Long sigh comes out, I really don’t want to cry but it keeps falling.

“Are you okay?” asks a man from a bench away. It startles me and surprisingly stops me from crying.

“I know it’s not my business but I think you need this” says the man who is standing a step away. I look at him while wiping the tear stain.

“I’m fine”

“I just purchase it from the vending machine if you don’t believe me. I don’t have any bad intention. I just feel bad to see you sad and this sweet drink should make you a little bit better”

He is very good looking. No, extremely handsome. He surely has his way with words but I still keep my guard up. These days, many criminals disguise as kind looking or educated person.

“You can take a picture of me as proof later on, if I really do something bad to you”

He, once again, push the cold drink to me and back to his bench again. He opens his bottle and drink it like a commercial. I can’t help a small smile when see him do that. He is surely a weird guy.

“I’m ready to pose if you really want to take a picture though”

“Okay, just in case”

I bring my film camera to my eyes and capture a very clear shape of his face.

“One more with your phone. You can send it to your friend ‘just in case’ I steal your phone later” he says while striking another pose. I shake my head. I do not expect laughing at the very moment.

I fulfill his request to take his picture with my phone camera and show him the result. I really hope he is not a bad guy because it will be a shame for his beautiful face and such a wit.

“Thank you” I say to him before drinking. My heart feels a little bit lighter than earlier.

“Will you post you pictures online? Hmm maybe on instagram?”

“I don’t know”

“I give a permission to post my pictures on your page then, no need to thank me”

I laugh for the second time. This time he laughs with me. Why someone bother to stop, spend his time for a poor looking stranger and make her laugh? I mean, we are strangers, we don’t know each other, less care for each other.

He, now, moves to my bench and sit on the other edge.

“I’m Seokjin, you can call me Jin. You can to not tell me your name now, but do me a favor”

“What is it?”

“When I find you, I mean my picture on your SNS, you cannot decline my offer for coffee or dinner if you don’t drink coffee”

“Okay”

“Be prepare for our second date” he says before leaving me all smiley on the park.

When he’s far enough from my sight, I just realize. He’s the man I saw this afternoon. The living sculpture that makes my pictures look better. I shake my head in disbelief. I’m expecting our next meeting to come.

10/10

This is the last picture of my happiness project. A pleasant encounter. Thank you.

seonho__kim Oh? Who’s this? You hide your new boyfriend from me?

kyungie_SK YOU MEET HANDSOME MAN IN SECRET!? WHATTA BESTFRIEND!!

DDDani is he… Jin sunbae? You two ...?

KSJin92 I cant tell which one is better, the photographer or the model, should we discuss it over a coffee? Or dinner? Your call.

The minute after I post Seokjin picture, everyone’s being wild. My bestfriends are being so loud on our private group chat. Sending all text in capital letters, sending all threating meme stocks they have on their phone. They demand me to explain in details how, when, why regarding Seokjin. I have to ignore those texts as I have to back to work. I know once I start replying them, they will never let me to stop until they satisfied. I receive DM notification from the source of this phenomenon right before I out it back to my pocket.

Jin: I know I offer coffee or dinner, but I wait for a long time just for coffee.. I know this Japanese restaurant that has superb menu and deserves all those Michelin star, so… will you be free on tomorrow?

Me: That sounds very promising and I have no reason to refuse, don’t I?

Jin: Great. 010 XXX XXXX This is my number, text me your office address and I’ll pick you up. See you soon ;)

Right after works, Seokyung and Dani ask me to meet them in chicken restaurant near our highschool. It’s our favorite restaurant to go whenever we want to fulfill our stomach while gossiping.

“I don’t believe how small this world is. How can you and Jin sunbae meet? He is ‘the sunbae’ I told you guys before” Dani seems excited and amazed at the same time. Dani works at the finance consulting company for 2 years now and Seokjin is his senior in different department.

“The famous sunbae?” ask Seokyung. Dani nods quickly. Me and Seokyung remember how Dani describe this man to us the first week she got the job. The idol of her company, who has many admirers from intern to senior staffs.

“I met him at the park last time, we talked a little and he asked me to take his picture”

“But how? And why?”

That’s exactly my questions too. Compared to him, I’m just an average looking woman, and a stranger. He must have work with many beautiful women in daily. I shrug my shoulder to answer them.

“It just happened”

“Is he a weirdo? I know he is handsome, but it doesn’t mean he is a good guy” Seokyung states her opinion with doubtful face.

“He. Is. The. Perfect. Guy” Dani says.

“He is very kind to others, well-mannered and smart. He is professional at work, no matter how friendly he is, he will be strict to those who make mistakes. During our company’s dinner, he can make everyone’s laugh with his dad jokes. I don’t think you can fake that one, no?”

“So… it will be fine if I meet him again, right?” ask me to both of my bestfriends.

“Totally fine”

“I think so”

They answer at the same time. They look at each other and laugh.

“That’s the fastest answer I ever heard from you too”

“I wish you to have boyfriend for what.. 2 years? It’s the perfect time to start again, you know” said Dani with a smile.

I’ve tried to have romantic relationship with other men before this but it never stays long. I was happy with them, everything goes smoothly. However, at some points, we both know that I cannot love them like they love me.

“Do you think it will work out this time, with Seokjin?”

“We won’t know for sure, but we wish you to be happy”

I also wish myself to be happy, happier.

Spending time with Jin is always entertaining. He knows his choice of words will lighten up the mood between us whenever we’re going out. He never seems out of topic or makes me losing interest. When I talk, he will attentively listen. Most of times he introduces me to all of his favorite restaurants in the city. Sometimes, he will accompany me taking pictures for my new projects. We just feel very comfortable to have each other around.

“Have you tried the new ice cream parlor near your home?”

“I haven’t tried it yet but I heard it’s good. They also have opening promos this week, if I’m not mistaken”

“Then should we go there before I drop you?”

“Hmm… are you making me join your morning jogging tomorrow?”

“You can read my mind so well. I need to make an excuse so I can meet you tomorrow morning”

I hold my smile and turn my face to the window.

“Who’s taking a woman eating ice cream nearly 9 pm”

Seokjin laughs a loud. He puts the ice cream parlor’s address to his car’s GPS despite of my comment because he knows I won’t survive the temptation.

“I will let you eat the mint-choco flavor this time. How about that?”

I pretend to think for a while. We both know Jin will get what he wants, but I just want to make it looks like not too easy. I don’t want to look I like him more than I should. Considering he let me to buy mint-choco flavor after countless dates for ice cream, he must really want us to go there. He always stops me when I want to pick that particular flavor and suggest me all of other flavors before.

“Bonus. How about dinner at my place next week? I’ll show you how good I am in kitchen”

I know he doesn’t have hidden meaning in his words but I can’t help to blush. He shouldn’t know how many times I imagining to hug him. He has wide shoulder and tiny waist, deep soothing smell and a good amounts sweet talks. We always an inch away to kiss. It makes me somewhat impatient and wondering how it feels like.

“O..okay”

“Cute”

We don’t label our relationship but we are no longer stopping ourselves to touch each other with affection months ago. This time feels different from the other relationships I have before. I trust Jin from the beginning and I think I fall in love with him sooner than I expected. He, himself, is very different from men I met before but I never thought we will match very well. To be honest, I thought he’ll only play around with me. But he always proves me wrong with his actions.

Dinner at his place become a routine. He doesn’t cook every time I come over, but never let me disappointed by his chosen take-out menu. Sometimes he just wants us to watch movies with snacks. The first three dinners, he will drive me home even it’s late. But after that, he will pretend too sleepy and persuade me to sleep over. It’s not I don’t like it, but he just tortures me more than before. These days, he will just hug me once I step inside his place and won’t even let me go for more than 5 minutes. It feels like we put ourselves in internal battle, to see who stands longer in this sexual tension.

“You’re not going home tonight” he said.

“I know” I answer without looking at him.

I give up to try right after the first night I fail to force him getting up while pretend to be sleepy. I remember how cheerful he sounds when I agree to sleep over. He even let me wear his favorite green pajamas.

He pulls me closer to him till my back fully leans to his chest.

“Should I tell you my plan tonight or you already know too?”

“Hmm? What plan?”

“I call it ‘Making You Mine’ plan?”

“Making me yours?” I ask. I turn my face to see him and find him already looking at me.

We just stare to each other’s eyes for some good seconds until his eyes start to travel down. He stops at my lips and wetting his own lips. I can’t help to notice how his tongue move slowly.

“Yes. I’ll make you mine tonight” he whispers while looking back at my eyes.

My mind blanks. I can’t think other things than his lips, his body, just himself in front of me. His face comes closer and I close my eyes when I feel his soft thick lips on mine. I hold onto his arm that circles my waist.

“I forget to tell you. You’re not going to sleep either”

The perks of having best photographer in the world as your girlfriend ;)

By @.Y/N

Y/N OMG. WHY DO YOU POST THIS?!

KSJin92 @.Y/N you’re the only one who can capture my beauty, honey, I have to show it to the world

Y/N @.KSJin92 tell me why I agree being your gf again

KSJin92 @.Y/N oh you know why… should I list all of them here? ;)

DDDani @.kyungie_SK this is why she was busy for the weekend ;)

kyungie_SK @.DDDani totally understand lol

Y/N @.DDDani @.kyungie_SK shut up you two!!!

#bts fics #bts fic #bts fanfics #bts drabble #bts x reader #bts jin #jin x reader #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #bangtan fanfic #bts fluff #happybirthdayjin

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iron--spider · 6 years ago

Text

the first birthday after

Tony wakes up on his fifty-third birthday and it’s raining outside. Things are hard, since it all ended. Losing an arm was an unexpected side effect of wielding the stones, and the nanotech replacement arm is hit and miss in its early stages. He can hardly walk without collapsing, and he’s left this bed a total of five times in the week they’ve been here. And he’s all burned to hell, streaked with the kind of pain that knocks him out from time to time, the kind of pain that would eat right through him if Carol hadn’t jetted back real quick with whatever the hell alien medicine they’ve been giving him.

He feels older than fifty-three. He feels a hundred and twenty seven. He feels ancient, a stone monster, a zombie lying in a bed that’s too white, in some SHIELD facility he doesn’t know.

But at least he’s alive.

And most importantly, and despite everything else, Peter’s alive too.

The kid still seems like a ghost, except now other people are talking to him too, so he must actually be there. He must finally be a real, living being, and not the hallucinations Tony sees out of the corner of his eye in his living room. In his backyard. And more than anything, in the garage, when he’s working. Like they used to do together, in the lab, when Peter’s laughter would carry and the bots would flock to him, like they could tell how important he was.

He’s alive. And that makes it all worth it.

The rain falls harder and Tony turns, his neck creaking and cracking, and he sees Peter asleep over by the window. He’s holding a small, flat box, and he’s slowly slipping to the right side of the easy chair he’s in.

Tony thinks about letting him sleep, but he finds himself speaking anyway. “Pete,” he says, his voice rough and raspy.

Peter immediately startles awake. “Happy Birthday,” he says, almost like he’d fallen asleep practicing it, planning to say it as soon as he woke up. He blinks at Tony, shivering a little bit, and then he smiles. “Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday.”

Tony snorts, smiling back. “Thanks, bud,” he says.

Peter scoots his chair closer, and Tony listens to it drag across the tile before Peter abandons the idea altogether and sits on the edge of the bed instead. He holds the box like he’s trying to hide it, and he smooths his fingers over the corners. “How are you doing?” he asks. “How...how are you feeling?”

Like garbage. Like death. Like I’m goddamn useless. Like I’m wasting away. “Better than yesterday,” he says, because it’s not a lie. “What time is it?”

Peter looks at the clock above Tony’s head. “A little after ten,” he says. “I fell asleep waiting for you to wake up.”

Tony used to wake up at six in the morning. Now, half the time, he can barely stay awake for more than three hours at a time. In the first couple of days he couldn’t stay awake at all.

“Doctor Cho said things were getting better,” Peter says, and Tony sees him glance over at Tony’s right arm, the new one, but there isn’t any judgment or fear in his eyes. Peter always regards things simply, for what they are. It’s one of the things Tony likes best about him. “She was here earlier, for a while. And Miss Danvers, uh, she sent a message, said something about bringing an elixir—”

“Good,” Tony says. “Though that alien ointment or whatever the hell—smelled like burning rubber—”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Tony huffs. “Well, hopefully the elixir tastes better than the medicine smelled.”

“I’ll contact her,” Peter says. “Put in a request. Green apple flavor. Or key lime pie.”

Tony smiles, a flurry of memories presenting themselves in his mind, from what feels like another life. Him and Peter in that pie shop, trying to find something for May’s company party. They tried so many ‘samples’ that day that Tony didn’t ever think he’d eat again.

“Good thinking,” he says. “Make recovery tolerable.”

Peter laughs a little bit, and Tony meets his eyes. He still can’t believe he’s here. He can’t believe it. It feels unreal.

Peter sighs, chewing on his lower lip. “I know this isn’t….I mean, this isn’t a good birthday. Spending a birthday in bed is—I mean, it could be okay, but this is—I mean—” He sighs again.

“Well, the service here is terrible,” Tony says. “Pillows are like rocks. No one replaces my shampoo bottles. No microwave in my room, no fridge, these are...these are essentials. I leave towels on the ground, they’re still there the next day—terrible hotel, two out of ten. I won’t be leaving a good tip.”

Peter snorts, fighting a smile. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“Don’t. It’s overrated.”

Peter shakes his head, blowing out a breath. He’s still holding the box tight. “I, uh—went out yesterday, finally, with Happy, trying to...find you a gift. But everything was just...so weird, so different, and it feels like just yesterday to me that it...wasn’t like that—”

“You didn’t have to do that, kid,” Tony says. “For real.” He knows what a mess it is out there. He knows they need to get to helping, as soon as he’s back on his feet. Feet that are hopefully steady and won’t keep buckling underneath him. He pushes himself up a little bit, pressing his hands into the mattress. Peter reaches out and grabs Tony’s elbow, helping him and readjusting his pillow behind his head. Tony nods, and he flexes his fingers on the nanotech arm. Strange. But he’s getting used to it.

“You okay?” Peter asks.

“Peachy keen,” Tony says, but he knows he’s already sweating from the smallest of movements. At least he’s sitting up a little straighter. “I hope you didn’t torture yourself too much, looking around. Not for me, not for fifty-three. Fifty-five, we can do something huge. I’ll throw a big bash.”

“Every birthday’s important,” Peter says. “Especially this one, for you, because—because—”

“I’m still here,” Tony says. “I know. I know. You’re right.”

“I didn’t find anything because...because everything out there sucks right now and maybe I got kind of weirdly emotional and Happy had to deal with that, whatever, but, uh—when I got back, I had an idea, and—Morgan helped me out.”

Tony’s mouth quirks up and he tips his chin towards the box. My two kids he thinks, and his face goes red.

“Here,” Peter says. “It’s not much. I’ll do better next year.”

Tony takes it with his good hand, and concentrates with all his might to untie the small red bow with his right one. He manages it, drops it in his lap, and tentatively pulls the top off the box.

His breath catches in his throat.

It’s a black and white photo of Morgan and Peter. Their heads are together, and Peter is holding the camera out in front of them. Morgan is laughing like she does sometimes, so hard that her eyes are clamped closed with the joy of it. Peter is grinning too, his eyes cutting over at her. It’s in a wooden frame with gold glitter and, horrifyingly enough, Tony’s eyes are filling with tears. This is something he always imagined, and now it’s here, in front of him. It’s happening, it’s real, this is proof. This image. Them. The two of them.

“Happy has this nice film camera just lying around, for some reason, so Morgan and I had a little photoshoot yesterday. We took like—thirty pictures, I’ve got a bunch of fruit stickers on my face in most of them, she’s wearing a tiger mask we made—I created a dark room in one of the broom closets, developed them all, and finally picked this one. We made the frame together.”

Tony stares at it, for what feels like forever and ever. He tries to memorize it.

“I know it’s not a lot—”

“No, it’s a lot,” Tony croaks. “It’s the most—it’s—it’s the best. The best gift I’ve ever gotten. By far. No contest.” He turns it over with his good hand, and sees the message ‘WE LOVE YOU!’ in alternating letters that clearly belong to Peter and then Morgan, making up the sentence together.

“Morgan and Pepper are actually making cupcakes downstairs right now, red velvet, duh, and I’m only invited to help when it comes to the decorating because of what happened with the cookies on Thursday.”

Tony blows out a breath, nodding. He can hardly focus. He wants all the pictures they took together. He wants to paper the walls with them. “Hey, bud, c’mere. Absolutely necessary birthday hug.”

Peter smiles, leaning in and tucking himself against Tony’s left side. Tony hugs him as tight as he can, closing his eyes. Not a hallucination. Real, solid. Alive.

“I don’t care how fucked up I am,” Tony says. “How insane everything is—this is the best birthday because you’re back. Because I have you back.” He claps Peter on the shoulder and Peter pulls back—thankfully, he’s a little teary now too. Always easier when both parties are crying. “All of this was worth it because my family is safe. You’re here, you’re safe. You’re my family.”

Peter nods, sniffling. “I’m gonna be here the whole time,” he says. “Until you’re better. And after. And always. Until you want me to go away.”

“Which is never,” Tony says. “Except right now. Go tend to red velvet cupcakes, Pepper can’t bake and Morgan eats too much raw batter, and I’m gonna need a couple minutes for a good old manly cry.”

Peter laughs, and quickly hugs him again. Tony holds him with both hands this time, the nano hand curving around his shoulder and, thankfully, not malfunctioning. It’s learning to adapt.

“I’ll keep you updated through Friday, she’s in every room now,” Peter says, pulling back. “Expect lots of singing when we come up. Hopefully not too much fire.”

“Yeah, candles for me is a dangerous blaze,” Tony says. “Or getting there.”

“Not yet,” Peter says, getting up and heading to the door.

Tony watches him go, and can’t stop himself from smiling. Yeah, he feels like shit. Yeah, he lost an arm. He can hardly walk, he has trouble breathing, his hero days might be behind him. But he looks at the photo in his lap—sharp and beautiful, Peter might have a future in photography—and he knows it was all worth it. Every bit of it.

He’s gonna get better. He’s gonna see fifty-four, fifty-five and past that. And Peter will be there to see them too.

here it is on ao3 if you want to kudos or comment :)

#tony stark #peter parker #endgame spoilers #morgan stark #avengers endgame spoilers #except i've changed something obviously lol #iron man #spider-man #spiderman #iron dad #my fics

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shmowlwrites · 5 years ago

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Yellow Carnations Chapter 8

ao3 chapter 7 chapter 9

Marinette huffed and blew her hair out of her eyes.

School was back in session and she couldn’t find it in herself to focus. So instead, she had decided to work on coding the Quantic Blog to look nicer and update posts.

She saved her changes and went back to the main website, where she noticed a notification under the Akuma bar. Expecting either an actual Akuma or just a butterfly, Marinette wasn’t prepared to see a text post. A suggestion.

“I apologize in advance for sending this through the Akuma Alert, I had no idea if there was a suggestion box. But I had an idea, a way to pin-point Hawkmoth in a way I wouldn’t be able to.

Do you know how there’s like fifty million cameras around Paris? I don’t know if Akumas show on them, but what if you were able to track an Akuma back to where it came from? You’d definitely need to collaborate with the police... unless you want to go illegally or something. I dunno, it’s just a suggestion.”

“Tikki!” Marinette gasped.

“Hm?” Tikki lazily floated over and read the post. “It’s worth a shot!”

Marinette pulled a sheet of paper. “I’m gonna see if I can find a way to narrow down the search. I’m not going through every camera on Paris, that’s 40 square miles of footage!”

Tikki grinned as she watched her Chosen get to work using the photos of akumas to find where the most were sighted. Marinette was brilliant, she just needed the nudge suggested to her.

Once the weekend came, Ladybug was running the rooftops to find someone who could help her. Her eyes fell on Officer Raincomprix, walking the streets.

“Hello, officer!” Ladybug dropped down, startling the man. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“Oh, it’s fine Ladybug. Of course, I’d help! What do you need?” Raincomprix asked, grinning.

“I need to see the CTV footage of this area,” Ladybug smiled. “It came to me that since Akumas can be seen on camera, that they should be seen on the cameras around Paris. I’ve narrowed down areas that we can look at, and this is the place where the most common Akuma sightings happen. I just don’t have the access to them.” She sheepishly tilted her head.

“I’ll see what I can do. Follow me.”

It wasn’t too long until Ladybug was sitting beside a watchman, reviewing past video footage of an Akuma. They started at the first appearance of Psycho Happy, an obvious Akuma who had started at the streets. They tracked the Akuma back, before it disappeared. Ladybug got the watchman to track all of the Francis Dupont Akumas - which were more frequent nowadays. They all disappeared in the same place.

“They all disappear around the Agreste Manor, but Gabriel Agreste has been akumatized…” Ladybug groaned.

“Well…” the watchman began. “What if Hawkmoth can akumatize himself? Think back to Hero’s Day. He certainly got akumatized by his own Akuma.”

Ladybug hummed. It couldn’t be Adrien, he was Chat Noir. It just… had to be Gabriel Agreste.

“Is there any cameras around back?” She asked.

“Not anymore,” the watchman shook his head. “Which now that we’ve reached this conclusion, it makes sense. He had paid the higher ups a good sum of money to take them down and stay quiet about them disappearing. Then he set up his own cameras that we can’t access and went on to buy a defense system... Between you and me,” the watchman looked back to the door and then to her, “I’m fairly certain he’s made some illegal purchases. I don’t have proof, though.”

Ladybug furrowed her brow. That was… nice to know. “Thank you,” she grinned.

Ladybug sat down on the rooftop she was standing on. How did she manage to miss this? A giant butterfly window? She had been right, and Chat Noir had dismissed it. Chat Noir was Hawkmoth’s son. How much did he actually know?

Ladybug growled. She had to get back to the Guardian.

“Master Fu!” Marinette called, panting from running all the way.

It took him a second, but he popped his head out the door. “Marinette, I’m with a client right now. If you’ll please wait.”

Marinette made a face and mouthed sorry before finding a seat. She sat for a bit, paced for a little while, sat again, paced… her mind was reeling. She’d definitely need a team. She couldn’t charge into battle as just herself, not to mention that he was an adult and an accomplice. And a more-than-likely spiteful son. And a sentimonster. That could get to four versus one real quick. And Marinette was not ready to face three people by herself.

Hawkmoth and Mayura had no time limits because they could stand the power and probably had gotten to understand how to use it well. Marinette had only recently been able to extend her time limit to seven minutes. Not good enough. She had to have a team. But who?

“Marinette, are you alright?” Fu asked, watching the girl pace with fervor. His client had left, and Marinette hadn’t noticed him leave or give her a concerned glance.

“Absolutely, I just need to make a battle plan,” Marinette grinned.

In the safety of the parlor room, Marinette explained how she found out who Hawkmoth was, and by extension, who Mayura was.

“-wait, that explains why Adrien had the book!” Marinette gasped.

“Yes, indeed it does,” Fu nodded. “And what are you going to do?”

“I- I need to make a team again,” Marinette sighed. “I can’t go in there by myself. That could really quickly become four on one, and I’m not strong enough to do that.”

“Mayura could put herself out, she has been using it for a year now, poisoning herself by using a broken Miraculous. But we can’t bank on that. Are you going to use all of them?” Fu asked, looking at the phonograph.

“Not all of them. I don’t want to go in with both the Ladybug and Black Cat, that would be giving him what he wants.” Marinette sighed. “I think I’m going to need the Fox, the Bee, the Turtle, the Horse, and the Snake.”

“And you’ll still go in with the Ladybug?” Fu asked.

Marinette pursed her lips, thinking. “I’ll go… with a fusion. It won’t look like I’ve got the Ladybug, not if I pick the right one.”

“And what will that be?”

“The Dragon.”

#felinette #felix vita #marinette dupain-cheng #I'm gonna complete one of my goals for this fic #don't worry #this is still rising action #I gotta do a training montage

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tordcallout · 6 years ago

Text

callout for @nyadmin

this callout is best read on desktop.

this callout contains: racefaking, blackfacing/brownfacing, pedophilia, incest, grooming, systemfaking, antisemitism, nazism, cult jokes, and more.

his current url is nyadmin. his twitter is adminpowers. his discord is ROMY O NO#6477. click here for a list of past names. click here for a list of his past urls. his other blogs are: amblyopic, racefakery, todayphobe, exadmin, askmychampion, and supercrushhighschool.

tords past callouts: one, two, three.

the rest of the callout is under the cut.

racefaking:

tord claims his mom is white and native and that his father is half black and half white. people who have known tord irl in the past say that his dad is not half black and those who’ve known him online say tord has never mentioned it before or joined in when they discussed issues related to being black. he also refuses to ask his dad for any photos of his grandmother who he says is black.

in the past tord has tried to claim that he doesn’t benefit from white passing privilege despite being extremely pale.

photos of his parents found on facebook show that neither his mom or dad have anything resembling ethnic features. his mom’s hair is dyed blond but regardless they both have basic white features:

below is proof that the woman shown is tords mom:

tords own blood related brother, felix, claims he doesn’t know where tord is getting their black heritage from:

below is a screenshot of an anon on mikas blog asking if tord has ever said the n word in front of him:

on 8/23/18, tord made this post. in the post he says this:

if it isn’t clear, he basically just said that he is white.

there’s also this screenshot from an older blog of his:

and if that wasn’t enough proof that tord’s racefaking he has also done both blackface and brownface. however, before we get to that here’s some more:

tord wondering if he could participate in the black men smiling tag and blackout.

now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for. tords blackface and brownface.

the first image is the brownface, the second is blackface.

on the left tord has obviously edited his skin to appear darker. in his blackface cosplay he claimed he wasn’t actually painted black and that the snapchat filters were making him darker. this is clearly a lie considering nearly all snapchat filters lighten your skin and this filter is no exception:

here is the filter applied to a white person, and as you can see, her skin is smoothed out but it is no where near dark the way tord appears in his selfie.

adding onto this, if you look closely at tords selfie you can tell the outside of his lips have a very pale ring around it. this is obviously because he didnt do very well coloring in his skin. you can also tell there is a grainy texture on tords skin but not anywhere else in this image, more evidence the image was edited.

more info on the blackface cosplay selfie can be read here and here.

you must either be on desktop or reading this post through a chrome browser to view this part, apologies. in these posts tord has a conversation with someone named frost about his callouts and being mixed. please keep in mind that the conversation in that link took place on may 7th of 2018. meaning, that in the past tord agreed to stop claiming to be mixed black and native but then threw that all out the window and began to reclaim it again.

grooming, incest, and pedophilia:

i was very hesitant to include this however, many people have said they feel the same way about this so it felt important enough to have its own part. multiple people believe that the relationship between tord and his brother felix is extremely inappropriate. the way he interacts with his brother is really something he needs to re-evaluate.

this isn’t meant to be about kin drama or anything of the sort, i’m only stating this because of the way tord and felix take kin so seriously. he and felix often match kins which isn’t an issue in itself, however, the only kins they typically match are those of which have a canon romantic relationship; and if not canon tord will still tag felix in ship art of their kins, as seen here.

when you visit the op of that post, you will see that it is tagged as both “shipsworld” and “tordedd”. the art is very obviously ship art anyways.

tord is obviously one of his main ids, so to tag your own sibling in ship art of your main id with one of theirs seems incredibly off. not to mention the very large age gap between tord and felix in the first place.

this isn’t a recent thing of theirs either, they’ve been doing this for years now. couples they’ve kinmatched have been: greg and rose from steven universe, eliza and alexander from hamilton, and penny and billy from dr. horribles sing a-long blog. along with tord and edd from eddsworld and romeo/admin and jesse from minecraft story mode who are not canonly dating. there are most likely even more than those listed above.

there aren’t screenshots of them both being kin with these characters, but the hamilton one isn’t hard to believe considering tords main id used to be alexander hamilton from the hamilton musical.

to add onto this, felix apparently had a set of ocs and a persona oc at one point. his oc skit, was to represent himself, and his oc aiko, was implied to be skits romantic interest.

here is a photo of skit, as you can see skit represents felix. you can also clearly see that aiko is labeled as skits “enemy and crush”, confirming that these two characters are supposed to have a sort of romantic relationship.

now here is a photo of aiko. as you can see from the relationship box, it is 100% that skit and aiko are supposed to be in a romantic relationship or something similar to that.

now the reason this i’m telling you all of this is because of on tords old deviantart, he has a folder of art of his kins. in that folder you could find images of skit and aiko along with one of aiko on her own, implying that tord kins her.

to make things even weirder, the photos added to this folder of skit and aiko are incredibly romantic in nature, hugs with hearts around them and a photo where the two of them are basically kissing with a heart above the two. the folder also includes more romantic tordedd art as well.

back to their matching kins however, as stated before, tord and felix kinmatch jesse and romeo/admin from minecraft story mode. i know little to nothing about this game, however, i do know that tord ships these two characters together. felix kins jesse and tord kins romeo.

UPDATE: i have been informed that the ages previously listed here were a mcsm fans headcanon ages for the characters and that they do not have canonical ages. however, it does prove that there are fans that would see the ship as a pedophilic one due to hcs of romeo being 30+ and jesse being >20.

now, here is a disgusting screenshot of tord saying he’s going to show his brother porn. i’m sure this was meant to be taken as a joke but i find it highly disturbing due to the fact that at the time of this screenshot being taken felix would only be 12 years old and tord would’ve been 16 years old.

i am in no way trying to say tord is a full on pedophile, not am i accusing him of having romantic or sexual feelings for his brother, however, i am saying the way he interacts with his brother is not okay and that he needs to learn how to separate friend interaction from sibling interaction.

cult jokes:

tord previously had a cult joke in his about: “mixed but i drank the racefaker koolaid”. when told about this, he refused to remove the joke and tried to hide it under the guise of the phrase being “aave” (his explaination was that black people like to drink koolaid). he was messaged by someone on his blog @/racefakery who asked for him to remove the joke from his about, as it is incredibly insensitive to joke about something like that where everyone can see.

in the conversation, tord doesn’t take the person who messaged him seriously at all and says “i don’t see why i should care?” about cult victims. i don’t think i have to explain how horrible and insensitive that is to say.

the joke continued to stay in his about for nearly a month after this conversation. on top of that, tord never apologized nor admitted that cult jokes are just as serious as jokes as any other traumatizing kind of event.

UPDATE: after doing a little digging, i found an older blog of his. in the links of this blog there is this: “thanks for reading and welcome to the lonely hearts cult” at the end of his links. so there’s another cult joke made by tord.

nazism:

tord has had multiple accounts of him being antisemetic, however, for this we are going to focus on the fact that tord is kin with habit and kinned eridan.

archive of this page.

habit from everymanhybrid is a canonical nazi. this was displayed on tords “alters” blog. now even if were going to pretend tord is a system here, unless tord is comfortable with antisemitism there is no reason for his “alter” to kin a nazi. all alters share similarities with their hosts, this mainly includes moral standpoints, saying tords “alter” is okay with kinning a nazi but not tord is the same as saying you can have one alter be a terf but the host isn’t. it isn’t simply isn’t possible. anyways, here’s evidence of habit being a nazi:

the person he claimed to have possessed was josef mengele. i don’t want to repeat the things he did but you can google it if you’d really like to know of it.

on top of habit being a nazi, here is a list of his “hobbies” & crimes he’s commit:

as for eridan, his main goal from what i’ve been told was to “wipe out the landwellers”, as he is a “seadweller”. his whole character is a metaphot for nazism, eridan being hitler and the “landwellers” being jewish people. if you want more info on this it can be found here. not sure why you would though.

tord was also briefly friends with ethan, a known nazi & rapist, for a while. there’s a lot of screenshots and information on that. you can read it on this google doc.

systemfaking:

this one isn’t going to take very long to explain because of how blatantly obvious it is but tord is systemfaking. from what i and quite a few others can tell, one of the biggest implications is that tords “alters” would reblog one anothers posts and talk to each other via the posts. there a many reasons this makes no sense:

if his alters are conscious enough to have their own blogs and set up themes similar to tords, why do they need to reblog one another’s posts to communicate? at that point, they should be able to speak via headspace.

these posts of his alters interacting with each other are made just seconds apart from each other, it is literally impossible for anyone to shift this fast, the average shifting time is 5-15 minutes. however, these posts aren’t even made a full minute apart from one another.

this is a post where tords “alters” habit and cora are interacting on a post.

if you look into the source code of these two posts you will find that they were made literally not even a full two minutes apart from one another. the original was posted at 8:10:46 and coras was posted at 8:11:10. like i already stated, this isn’t possible in systems.

tord and his “alter” gem do this again. gems first reblog of this post was at 17:51:49. and their second reblog of the post was at 17:53:48. under 5 minutes apart from one another, meaning tords reblog must’ve been around 17:52. but it just isn’t possible either way.

you may think that this is all that tord has done, but it really isn’t. despite all the information in this callout there is still a lot here that isn’t shown. this was thrown together as a sort of “birthday gift” for tord. i hope you appreciate your gift, tord.

#racefaker tord #nyadmin #fatphobe #amblyopic #r slur

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