#I know exactly what to expect but the kick of these mints is something else

[sometimes-sleeby-octopus]

I’m starting to understand Tails’s mint addiction cause’ my mom got me a tin of really minty, really good mints and I wanted to eat the whole thing

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 11

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3

Eddie had barely unwound himself from Steve—let alone relaunched his epic packing campaign—when Robin swept back in. She hustled Steve out to the couch, where she plonked a tray of super-late breakfast in his lap. She then swung her attention back to Eddie:

“You’re due out of here in less than nineteen minutes. You ready?”

Eddie opened his mouth. Shut it again. All he wanted was more time alone with Steve.

“Let’s try that again, goldfish-guy. This dump is awash with your junk. You want help packing?”

Eddie hadn’t been expecting that. She didn’t wait for an answer, just grabbed him by the elbow. When he glanced over his shoulder at Steve, she yanked him into the bedroom, closed the door. ‘Help’ turned out to be an opportunity to give him the tongue-lashing of his life, and he sucked it up.

“Okay, I admit it. Steve and I had our first proper row last night,” he said, while they hurled his beloved t-shirt collection into bags. “Something else happened today. Steve told me that he saw somebody from his past who made him remember stuff he tried to forget. Whoever it was, they shook him real bad.”

“From his past?” Her whispers came at him like the rat-a-tat of machine gun fire. “You mean, from the year he was forced into prostitution to pay back his parents’ debts? It wasn’t only sex, you know. Some of those bastard’s got off on hurting him. All you are, Eddie Munson, is the John who pulled him back into the game after he’d fought his way free, and who wasn’t quite such a shithead.”

Ouch, ouch, OUCH.

She kept on kicking: “Still think his feelings for you are anything other than Stockholm Syndrome?”

Eddie only faintly knew what Stockholm Syndrome was. He felt sick. Everything she told him made him feel sicker and sicker. However, if he was gonna help Steve—heck, if Robin was going to have a clue how to help him—he couldn’t cave on this.

“You didn’t answer my question, sister.” He batted a wasp from his uneaten jelly donut. “When Steve was acting odd, I think he was having flashbacks. Shit, I need to talk to my uncle. He knows about that kinda thing. Any ideas who could’ve made Steve flip out?”

Robin gawked at him in silence for a moment. Which was jarring and bordered on creepy.

“I can’t be sure,” she said, returning to her whirlwind of activity. “Too many candidates in this place, though one new guest stands out. Some limey asshat—Lord Dickchester, or something like that. He’s a jerk, rude as fuck. Got hands crawling everywhere they’re not wanted. Nobody’s gonna do anything, ’cos he’s the friend of some other asshat who recently bought a ton of shares in the hotel. He’d be my number one suspect, but then there’s also…"

Eddie tuned out. He checked the drawers, and then the wardrobes and cabinets, and then under the bed. Aaaaand repeated it all. He couldn’t focus on anything.

He was so fucking angry. And scared. Steve needed help, real help, and Eddie had no clue what to do about it.

“You trippin’ out there?” Robin clicked her fingers under Eddie’s nose.

“Huh?”

“You hear me?” she hissed. “Word in the kitchen is that Steve’s been fired. I’ve managed to wrangle a few days leave. I’m gonna take him home to my mom, but we’re not exactly minted down in Castle Buckley. You are gonna pay him, right?”

Eddie’s groan grated through him like a broken amp.

…

Steve sat on the couch and stared at the tray on his lap—orange juice, oatmeal and banana. He ate a few spoonfuls, took a sip of the juice, then shoved it aside.

He’d taken his meds. They could fix how he felt, and he sure didn’t feel like eating much. Now the adrenaline rush, or whatever, had crashed, he didn’t much feel like anything at all. He sure as heck didn’t want to watch Robin help Eddie finish packing. Ugh. It was so… final. He was relieved when they disappeared into the adjoining room, though Robin returned quicker than Eddie.

She broke the news that Kline had given him the heave-ho.

“Oh,” he said. He should be freaking out. What if that douchebag carried out his threat of turning Steve over to the cops? He was simply too drained to freak out about anything anymore.

And then she informed him she was taking him home to her mom.

“I’m not a stray puppy,” he sniped, then added, with a roll of his eyes, “I guess I should thank you.”

“Why break the habit of a lifetime, bitch?” She winked at him, wandered off.

“Steve?” said Eddie, and Steve glanced up again. He’d not noticed Eddie tiptoe out of the bedroom. “You know that I can’t actually pay you what I owe right now, so…”

He offered out a glittery silver guitar case. One of the few things he owned that wasn’t layered with metalhead stickers.

“It’s the Jimi Hendrix one,” he explained. “I’m ninety-nine percent convinced it’s a phony, and the dude I bought it off doubtless took me for a chump. Still a beauty, and gotta be worth several hundred bucks, even if it wasn’t blessed by a God.”

“No way.” Steve avoided Eddie’s pleading gaze. “I’m not having you pay me. I’ll be fine. Okay, Robin’s mom is apparently just like her, so I’ll wanna top myself by tomorrow, but—”

“I heard that, Dingus! Take the damn guitar. Christ knows, we can’t keep you in treats and kennels, rent free, forever.” She marched out of the bedroom carrying several garbage sacks, then disappeared into the corridor, slamming the doors behind.

Eddie dumped the case at Steve’s feet. “Sell her, pawn her, whatever you need. Keep her—maybe you can become the next George Michael. Or Rick Astley.”

His snicker totally rubbed Steve up the wrong way. “Oh, right. So, you’re a tortured genius, and I’m a wannabe?”

“Not what I said, Steve.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just…” Dying inside here. “Hungover and grouchy.”

Steve swept his hand shakily across his mouth, pushed himself to his feet. He actually let Eddie help him. Damn, what wouldn’t he give to scuttle back to that bed, curl up with Eddie, and sleep till the world started over.

“You’ll take her?” Eddie’s hand rested very lightly on Steve’s hip.

“I guess.”

He wound up staring at that stupid pillar. He vaguely recalled blundering into it, the handcuffs and… Oh shit, did I really do that? Panic flashed, then Eddie pulled him close, notched his chin on Steve’s shoulder. Steve melted into him.

“I’m crazy about you, Stevie,” whispered Eddie. “God, I’m gonna miss you so freakin’ much. Here’s Henderson’s number. Call me, okay?”

Eddie slipped something into Steve’s pocket. Steve choked up. He couldn’t help it. “Crazy about you too,” he murmured, sliding his arms under Eddie’s. He breathed deep as he dared, chiefly of Eddie’s sweat. And he smiled into Eddie’s puffy, sweaty hair. Maybe he should be dreaming of a cold shower together rather than hopping straight into that soft bed. Wasn’t gonna happen.

But maybe they could go on a cheap date this weekend?

“Crap!” He pulled back and took Eddie’s face in his hands. “Your agoro-wotsit! You gonna be okay leaving this place?”

“Oh, I’m gonna whizz out of here like the Flash. You cured me, remember?” Eddie pulled a dumb face, crossing his eyes, then silenced Steve’s protest with his fingertips. “I’m gonna be just peachy. You go home with Robin and rest up.”

…

Eddie perched on the couch, his head in his hands.

It had been ten minutes since Robin and Steve had left. Since then, Eddie had glued himself to the seat, barely able to move a muscle. It took a shitload of willpower to shift far enough to discover what was jammed uncomfortably against his butt. Turned out to be Robin’s rolling pin, that’d gotten lost beneath a cushion.

When Steve was settled at Robin’s, would he want to call? Should he want to? Were Steve’s feelings for him really Stockholm Syndrome, or some equally messed-up shit?

Eddie’s mind raced through the past few weeks, all the scorching sex, the cool times hanging together. He settled on one of his favorite memories, which even brought a small smile to his lips. He’d been dozing on this very couch, daydreaming about being home in Wayne’s trailer—rolling on his tiny bed with Steve, making out like dumb teens.

Then real-life Steve had crawled on top of him, fingers tangling through Eddie’s hair and kissing him softly. So soft and teasingly gentle that Eddie’s every nerve-end shimmered, flooding him with dumbass levels of joy. Wide awake, he’d gabbed Steve hungrily and kissed him back like it was his last moment alive. They’d sucked face and wrestled and rolled about so madly that they’d tumbled off the goddamn couch and landed in a tangled heap.

They’d pissed themselves laughing on the Persian rug. Then they’d watched Ghostbusters II and chucked popcorn at each other, before head-banging their brains out to some serious metal and pop. In those moments, Eddie had sure as heck believed in his daydream—that he and Steve belonged together, in some badass time and place far away from his dungeon-tower gulag. Steve understood that too, right? Jesus, but even last night, Eddie had treated Steve… like a hooker. Worse. He’d pinned his wrists and swatted his ass, taken without asking. And now, after everything he’d learned…

“All you are, Eddie Munson, is the John who wasn’t quite such a shithead to him.”

As his guts twisted into fresh knots, he consoled himself with the facts. He was crazy about Steve. Steve said he was crazy about Eddie. He could make this right and real within days. Hours, even. Then he’d work his tatts off on ‘Vecna’s Doom Quest II.’ He’d make a shitload more money. He’d TAKE CARE of Steve. 

As soon as he’d shuffled out of here.

Riiiiight. In your own time, dude.

He managed to sit up straight, but his legs had set like stone. His rings dug into his tightly-curled fingers. Far below, in the street, his ride awaited, the meter ticking. Dustin was gonna shred him up and feed him to those damn donks.

A bellhop arrived with a trolley and gathered some of Eddie’s luggage. Then he came and fetched two more loads. Eddie was left on the couch with a few of his original tattered trunks around his feet.

Four o’clock was long gone. The chambermaid let herself in. At the sight of Eddie, she dropped her duster and gave a little cry.

“Hey, Doreen,” said Eddie, offering a small wave. “Uuuuuuh, just takin’ a breather. I’ll be outta your hair in a jiffy.”

“You take your time, hon’. I’m heartbroke to see you leave.”

She started up hoovering. Eddie rummaged through his stuff for something to give her as a parting tip and hit paydirt with an original 1964 Rolling Stones LP. Yeah, it was rad, but a recent purchase. Compared to the 7-inch vinyls he’d scrimped and saved for as a kid, it meant less than nothing.

He pushed himself to his feet, a monumental achievement that he was stupidly proud of. He puffed out his cheeks, rolled back his shoulders.

“Yoohoo! Doreen!” he called, and she stopped hoovering. He beamed at her and even wondered if he could build on this momentum to blast on out of there. “Got a teensy weensy pressie for—"

“What the devil?” An English-accented voice interrupted them, and Eddie wheeled about. A chunky middle-aged man in a three-piece suit blocked the doorway, leaning on a wicker cane. “I was promised this suite would be available this afternoon.”

“It will be Lord Godchester,” said Doreen. “Accept my sincere apologies. I will call down for assis—”

“I don’t care, woman!” Godchester strode into the room as if it was his birthright. “I want to move my trunks across NOW.” He swiped the cane through the air as he spoke. Clearly, he didn’t need it for walking. On noticing Eddie, he balked. “Who the bloody hell are you?”

Greetings and salutations, Lord Dickchester.

Eddie stared at the cane. Then he stared at the pillar. And back at the unspeakable bastard before him. 

Yeah. The picture was goddamn crystal clear.

“I asked you a question, man!” yelled Dickchester. Godchester. Eddie didn’t give a flying fuck either way.

He breathed hard and fast through his nostrils. His teeth grinded. Then he turned about and picked up Robin’s rolling pin.

....

Part 12 on AO3 Part 12 on tumblr

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[mrpenguinpants]

Razor:  Jealous HCs

Hey anon!! As much frustration I hold for crippling oblivious couples, I also love the trope so much. Plus I adore Razor. Even though I try to not call Razor a dog, I still google “jealous dog traits”. Also, I found out both Hanniejji and I secretly HCs Bennet is friends with Razor and Fischl. If genshin won’t give me character interactions then I’ll write it myself.

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Semi Part 1: General HCs

Semi Part 2: Pre-Relationship HCs

Semi Part 3: Cuddle HCs

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

 @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact @morthecreator @ aanne2601 @hanniejji​

Razor:  Jealous HCs

Bennet and Fischl are both foaming at the mouth at how deeply in love you BOTH are and yet you’re both equally blind. Fischl wants to grab you by the shoulders and yell at you that Razor returns your feelings and you need to stop doing whatever it is you’re doing. A sad Razor looks like a kicked puppy and even she can’t handle it. But Razor absolutely refuses for anyone to confess for him because he believes that you might just genuinely be uninterested in him. Plus, it wouldn’t feel right if he couldn’t confess himself. It’s his first love, this is important to him.

Bennet thinks it’s really sweet that his friend is in love. Even if he does get a bit pouty that whenever he get’s hurt, Razor will ask if he’s alright and leave it at that. But if you accidently trip Razor is already at your side and fussing over you. Bennet uses this as physical proof that yes, your feelings are returned and this man is in love with you, but you always brush it off as Razor’s nature to be caring. He’s smiling patiently on the outside but on the inside he has his hands in his hair and he’s screaming.

God forbid anything upsets you. Razor hasn’t been around other humans long enough to pick up on most social cues but he does have a good sense of smell. If you’re happy then the wind smells like sweet flowers. If you’re upset then it smells like mint. While Razor usually keeps himself in check and is somewhat indifferent, the second he catches any signs of distress from you he’s on high alert. Until you tell him what’s been bothering you - a group of hilichurls stole your bag of snapdragon flowers - he’s going to be on guard and stressed out. He’s already throwing his claymore over his shoulder to go and fight the monsters that tried to upset you. Wow, what a good friend you say to Fischl. Fischl is ready to punt you off a cliff.  

Razor tries his best to show that he likes you by bringing the things you need and looking like such a proud pup. He looks at you with such hopeful eyes that it takes you a second to register what he’s asking before you feel your own heart rate speed up and pound into your ears. You flush pink before you move to embrace him and ruffle his hair as praise as he nuzzles into your shoulder affectionally. You assume his affectious actions are apart of his wolf nature and how they act so you try not to read too deep into things. Even if Razor seems a bit too happy to be hugging you and receiving pets. Or the fact he doesn’t let anyone else pet him...

Bennet tries his best to help his friend out by giving Razor some advice but considering Bennet himself hasn’t been in a relationship yet, it’s all practical. Telling Razor that he’s seen couples bring each other flowers as a sign of affection, maybe Razor could find some plants to bring you? It ends horribly when he offers you a wolfhook and you just stare at him. He says that these are his feelings towards you but you’re just...so confused?? Wolfhooks have thorns so does that mean he thinks you’re clingy? Isn’t that a bad thing? Are you annoying to him?? But wolfhooks also symbolize wolves so is he saying you’re like family to him??? You’re internally screaming while debating if you just got family-zoned or if Razor is trying to subtly tell you that he doesn’t like you.

Just because Razor is, somehow, unsure if you actually like him or not. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t get incredibly jealous and possessive at any unknown presence. He’s still a bit wary of the City due to all the conflicting smells and noises but he can’t help but look so sad when you have to run errands and you can’t visit him. But when you mention that a really nice knight gifted you a flower does Razor see red. He gave you a flower?? Shouldn’t you be happy with his? Why do you need another one when you have his? Is his gift not good enough? Is this your way of saying you’re interested in someone else? This poor boy is on the verge of either running off to go sulk or find the man that gave you this flower, which up until his knowledge - courtesy of Bennet - is a sign of courting, and absolutely destroy him to prove he’s the better partner.

He tries to keep it under wraps since he's been told that while in the City, he needs to exercise restrain and understand that if he enters. He's expected to at least respect the laws and people. But this poor wolf is so feral over this new development and this new smell that's been clinging onto you that whatever worries and isolation issues Razor felt about the city flies out the window as his protective instincts kick into overdrive. He sees other people and even pets as a rival for your attention and love. He just wants to scoop you up and growl at everything as a message to say “this is mine, go get your own”.

Even when the both of you are far away from the city, Razor’s continued mood seems to hang heavy over both your heads. You’re not sure what exactly caused Razor to be on high alert. He’s snapping and growling at everything little thing that comes close, even a butterfly!

You abruptly stop walking to Razor’s surprise as you whip around and frown at him. He can feel a chill run up his spine as he stands perfectly straight as you study him before you hold your palm out and looked at him expectantly. He looks at your hand with a small spark of perked attention before his nose twitches and he goes back to sulking. You’re still waiting for him as he shuffles a bit, his hair that resembled a wolf ear is twitching, before he whines and trots over and places his chin on your palm. He’s looking up at you with the most kicked puppy expression and you don’t even know what you did but you feel like the worse person in all of Teyvat.

“Razor...what’s gotten into you?” you ask gently as you rub circles into his cheek as he nuzzles into your palm. He seems really conflicted as his eyes dart away from your face and he almost looks guilty. He just whines and turns and buries his face into your warm palm. You’ve never really seen him like that before as you awkwardly try and comfort him. Until the same flower slips out of your pocket and you hear something primal growl out of Razor. His teeth are pulled back and he snarls at the flower as his pupils dilate. You quickly get between him and the poor flower before Razor tries to do anything.

“Seriously Razor, what’s gotten into you?” you asked concerned. He quickly shifts his attention to you as he pounces and knocks you over. You left off a soft noise as the wind get’s knocked out of you but you peep when his hands cage you from above. Razor’s red eyes bore into yours and you’re suddenly thinking the air is getting too hot. 

“Do you like Razor?” he asks, tilting his head in a cute pout. It makes you internally coo before you quickly snap out of it. Stay focused! 

“Of course I do! Remember we talked about this?” you say as you remember back to your previous interactions but this only seems to frustrate Razor more.

“No. Not that like. More...” Razor struggles with his words as he tries to piece together the right string of sounds to try and convey what he’s feeling. He seems so conflicted that it breaks your heart a bit. So you reach up and gently rub behind his ear as he closes his eyes and relaxes. He breathes in deeply as his eyes open and his pupils return to normal, but vastly determined.

“Together. Always. Just...us,” Razor says softly as he looks at you hopefully. There’s a small pink dust to his cheeks as his fang digs into his lip in nervousness. You’re not sure why but your heart absolutely sky rockets at it and you can feel your face flush pink.

“Um, yes?” you nod along, you think you’re understanding what he’s trying to say. Maybe he was just upset you were spending so much time in the City and away from him that he felt your friendship was neglected? That would make you really upset. But the way he phrases his words makes you believe that perhaps...

Before you can think more on it. Razor’s face breaks into a grin that nearly blinds you from the pure affection that sprouts from it. He’s already hugging you harder as he starts rubbing his nose and cheek against your neck. Making soft and happy sounds as he nuzzles you. He’s never done that before but you assume he’s just so happy. You breath a sigh of relief that it appears that your message to him was clear enough.

Yeah of course, friends always, you think

Lupical. Partner. Mate, Razor thinks.

---

whistling as I pretend I don’t see your stares. Yeah ik but it’s ok. This is a sorta semi series. We’ll build upon it. But Xiao content is next lol. I’m taking inspiration from this. I mean, when I don’t feel like shit 😷

I’ve been listening to [  Softy - Dear Moon ]. This isn’t the usual kind of music I listen to but it came on shuffle and this is now my mental breakdown song.

Quick edit: Turns out this is an ost from “My Mister”. I’ve never been into kdramas (I think I’ve only seen goblin, she was pretty, and Hwarang) but the cover picture looks so upsetting? My friend is really into tgcf and I believe that had a live action as well. 

[marshmallowprotection]

Cereus question bc I’ve been thinking about Em and Unknown’s dynamic a lot. How would unknown act with a more “dominant” mc? I don’t necessarily mean dominant in a sexual way, just someone who dislikes being considered “prey”, snaps back when looked down on in any way, and in general someone who’s much less kind and naive as the story’s mc? When I think about my oc, she’s definitely the type to take part herself in some shady stuff and she is definitely more of a maneater/womanizer type than an innocent/guarded one

Overall I’m just a big fan of unknown + bold, mischievous mc dynamics. Can’t leave the manhandling to the men after all 💪

Cowboy Unknown is crass, sardonic, and has the tendency to tell it like it is. He isn’t exactly the most excited apple pie of the patch, leaving more a spicy kick to the back of your throat when you meet him. The reason why it’s easy for him to see the Standard Cereus as someone who’ll be so easy is sway is because they are naive and unassuming. He knows that he can use that to his gain since it’s a town where people like that get their heads chewed off for breathing the wrong way.

If you don’t know any better about the way of the world, you’ll listen to the guy that’s telling you how to survive without complaint. It makes his job all that much easier to deal with at the end of the day. He doesn’t have to deal with someone who wants a pay cut or who wants to get something out of this deal with him. It’s a matter of knowing that he’s got it made with Cereus sitting in the hot spot for all his wants and needs.

You’ve got nowhere else to turn.

He’s your only option.

That doesn't mean that somebody with a different kind of personality isn't going to fit in the place of Cereus. It means this is the base option that's easier for him to work with. This is just the standard for the reader-insert character. So, what is he supposed to do when this Cereus he’s working with doesn’t fit the bill? What's his reaction going to be to somebody who is far more willing to commit atrocities and level with him about the world?

Because it's easy to assume that may not be his cup of tea knowing how easily he swayed towards a more considerate and compassionate Cereus!

Interestingly enough, he wouldn't be angry about it. This is the exact opposite situation of the one that he expected. However, he can also use this to his favor as long as he plays his cards right. He cannot rely on a game of hoping that this Cereus will just assume he’s a good guy. He has to break character sooner and there's no way out of it.

I have a feeling in this situation that Em is the type to call him on his shit right away. From the first second that he meets her, she lets him know that she isn't a pushover to be controlled. In fact, a part of me wants to assume that she almost could have handled the attacker on her first night in the town by herself.

She might have this aura about her that makes people believe that she could be easy for the taking, but I feel she would be armed in that situation and would’ve been ready to cut a man if he came close. It isn't like she hasn't done something dangerous before, she could do it again. You get desensitized easily in situations like this. Unknown would know that, too. Even after he stepped in to make good on the situation, he would be able to see that look in her eyes and know right away she was a Spitfire.

She would look him dead in the eyes and let him know exactly what she thought of him. It doesn't matter that he stepped in to make things right, she knows that look in his eyes is the look of somebody who wants to do just as bad. “Did you expect me to fall to my knees and thank you for that? If you thought so, you’ve got another thing coming, mister. You want to do the same as him. You think I’m afraid of those pathetic guns?”

Unknown would laugh if she did. I reckon he’d take his hat off and look her in the eyes, mint eyes smug but knowing, “Well, well, lil’ missy. Y’all caught me, now, didn’t’ja? Y’ain’t just some filly from the city who ain’t know no better about this. Well, y’all can put that knife down. I ain’t gonna do worse to ya’ than that guy. However, if we ain’t gonna beat around the bush. Lemme walk ya’ home, then, I got a proposition for ya’ if yer’ willin’ to listen.”

He's already heard about you. It isn't uncommon for him to have news that somebody new is going to come into town. He's got feelers everywhere that know everything. So, it's not out of the question for him to already have a good idea of what you're like. In this case, he would already know that Em is a lot more than meets the eye. He's able to figure out what kind of person somebody is just from the way that they hold themselves. It's a talent he had to learn when he was young because if he did not know what somebody was thinking, it would get him killed. You have to anticipate what somebody is going to do way ahead of time. 

So in this case, it would be a situation where somebody is aware of what they have to do from the start. He would make a good proposition, though. Since there are no pretenses and there's no reason to hide everything, Em is getting something out of this. I can see him engaging in a debate with her about what the benefits are and what she's getting out of this. She would know a lot more in this situation than somebody who is a more naive and unassuming Cereus. 

As far as how Unknown treats her? He likes the challenge. You might not think that he would enjoy having somebody push his buttons since he hates it when somebody gets the leg over him, but he likes it in a partner. If you're able to push his buttons and know what makes him tick, then you know a lot more about him than somebody else does. He has a persona to keep up but … damn.

If Em cornered him outside of Jihyun’s Bar and trapped him between her arms? There’d be a coy look on his face, daring her to do more and tempting her to push him around. It takes two to tango and this is one of those situations where if she pushes, he pulls. If he pushes, she pulls.

They understand each other on a level that nobody else will because they're both hiding a secret about their past that nobody knows. I feel as though there's a sense of camaraderie and knowing that secrets are just a part of life and it's a part of the game that you have to play in the West. Their Dynamic is built on that. It's built on trying to figure out the other before the game is done. Em has his respect, I’ll tell you that much.

The only issue that I can see arising out of this is the fact that she is the type of person that would not hesitate to go after the highest Target. That's a problem for him; she's too smart for her own good and that puts him at risk. She wouldn't respect him when he said not to go that far and would continue to do so when he refuses to elaborate on why. That part is where Unknown gets messy.

He doesn't mind being pushed around a little bit in the shadows, but if she starts acting like she's running the show over him, I can't say that it would end well. We all know how he feels about Mayor Choi. If she tries to run that close to him, it makes this a lot more complicated. He's going to be pissed that she didn't listen to him. He'll be even more pissed if she turns against him.

Generally, you can assume that he will respect her but there's going to be a game between the two of them where they're constantly trying to break down the other with fake smiles on their faces. The tension is high and they probably let out steam on each other. You can take that to mean whatever you want it to mean. He doesn't mind when somebody is tactical and smart but he doesn't like when somebody goes above his head. If she does turn against him, that's her head. Feelings be damned.

Em’s attitude suits her well and can get her into Unknown’s book. His respect only runs so far, however. So be mindful when you think about it because as much as he's willing to turn a blind eye when she gains success, he won’t turn away if she risks his life and freedom. It's not as if he's going to be jealous or bothered by her performing at the bar, either. It makes it easier on him because she is so willing to take the bait and lure people in on the hook. He can respect the hell out of that. 

TLDR; Cowboy Unknown respects the hell out of a maneater but you sure as shit better not betray him.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Trident Tale part 2

Mermaid!Shinsou x reader x Kirishima x reader

Warnings: adult themes (minors DNI)

Author’s note: sorry to those of you who have asked me to put on the tag list! I don’t do tag lists! But if you don’t want to lose this story, you can always bookmark it on AO3.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Original image by @maewoahoah

Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

The thing about being hungry is that you can sometimes convince yourself that you’re full. You can sip water, swallow your breath, pop a few mints in—hell, you could even pretend to eat. However, even if you might trick your brain, your stomach will still be empty.

By the time you finally get some real goddamn food in your stomach, it will be aching from being teased.

It feels like this is exactly what Hitoshi Shinsou has done to you. Teased you. He’d mentioned being one of Ryūjin, which you can only assume is something religious or magic. You know he’s a fish, and that he makes people’s skin glow when he touches them, and apparently his lips or his saliva can heal wounds. But he’s not yet given you any real goddamn food.

The jerk has been swimming circles around the pool, commenting on how disgusting it is being stuck with all the trash, and complaining about your poor hospitality, but has not yet told you what the hell he’s doing here.

It’s not like you ever asked for some creature to crash into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool. Maybe some people would be ecstatic over finding an actual merperson, but life isn’t all about singing songs and talking to seagulls. He’s definitely not an Ariel, unless he is in fact looking for a prince. With all his sass, you think he’s much more of an Ursula than a Disney princess. If he is a sea-witch, he refuses to tell you.

It won’t matter much by the time Denki gets here anyways. You had been honest when you said you wouldn’t put it against him to call some news station when he sees Hitoshi. You figure that after some science lab’s helicopters carried your intruder away to run tests on him, the fish-man will be out of your hair and a thing of the past.

Despite the cynicism crawling through your head, the thought actually makes a guilty pit form in the bottom of your stomach. A life is a life, afterall.

“At least tell me why you tried to…to…” Your mouth flattens when you recall Hitoshi leaning into you, his lips a whisper away from yours.

“To?” Hitoshi asks while he observes the wayward bra that blew into the pool with notable repulsion.

“To kiss me!” You bark out, ears warm.

“Oh, that?” He purses his lips, spinning the bra around in the water. Then, he’s contemplative for a moment, as if he’s thinking of an excuse that won’t make you angry. Or will. He seems to get a kick out of frustrating you.

“I suppose I should’ve considered that it’s not a social norm for humans to greet other humans with their lips,” he says with a cocky, probably lying smirk. “My bad.”

“You expect me to believe that mermaids kiss each other to say hello?”

“Not a mermaid.” The fish is all teeth as he regards you. “I’m one of Ryūjin. And I’d like to think that you’d believe anything I tell you, since you seem to know nothing about my people.”

“Because you won’t tell me anything about your people,” you mutter right before the house bell rings. Your heart jumps with a spike of panic. You haven’t thought about what you’re going to say to Denki yet. You begin thinking about science labs again, and that knot in your stomach tightens.

“Okay,” you say in a warning tone, “I’m gonna let Denki in now…”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s gonna see you…”

“That’s the plan.” Hitoshi lifts a brow. “You’re not worried for me, are you?”

“I just think you should be more worried about yourself,” you say. “Humans aren’t…” There’s a pensive pause when you try to search for the right word. “Humans aren’t good.”

“Would you say that you’re a good human?” He asks.

What a question. You’d like to believe that you are, but you can’t kid yourself. Never one to be very self-sacrificing, you utter your next words with confidence. “Nope.”

“And yet, you haven’t done anything malicious towards me. Nothing, besides that half-assed attempt to kick me away from you, anyways.”

Rolling your eyes to keep your couldn’t-care-less facade up, you left the smirking merman to wade around in the murky pool. There’s not another second to think about what you could possibly say to Denki about your surprise guest, because when you enter the house, you see his face peeking through the side window next to the front door. You could see a drink holder and a Tiki Burger bag in his hand. His smile is bright, while yours is grim.

He pouts, seeing through forced body language, and proceeds to make a funny face. You let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. You might not be a good person, but Denki is. He’s an idiot, but you don’t think he’d ever do anything to harm another creature, mythical or not. This could even be fun to him. Exciting. Something extraordinary happened, and you’d been too scared to react to it appropriately, but Denki would be different.

Your changing emotions grow palpable when you finally reach for the handle.

“Heard you had some thingies that needed twisting,” Denki says as you open the door. He’s wearing his company’s shirt, a brown thing with the PoolPros logo on it, though it’s cut raggedly short to show off his midriff. He’s been particularly confident ever since he’d gotten his navel pierced, and happily showed off the topaz stone that Kirishima had given him. It hangs right above his buckle. It forces onlookers to look at his abs…or maybe his groin. He says it’s lucky, and you haven’t argued with him about it. You would probably call something Kirishima gave you lucky too.

In a flash, you’re grabbing him by his shirt collar and guiding him in and against one of the hall mirrors.

“Something’s happened.” The words immediately spill out, even while you still do not know what you’re going to say. You hope that if the right things tumble out of your mouth, Denki will get the picture.

“Uh…” Denki’s cheeks are red hot, reacting to your close proximity. “Was it a spike in your libido?”

God.

“No, shut up!” You smack his chest and glance down the hall towards the back door. The pool isn’t in your line of vision, but just knowing what lurks there gets your blood pumping. “This is going to sound crazy, but I need you to keep an open mind.”

He bobs his brows. “For you? Always.”

After an exhale, you gather your composure, and tell Denki everything with as much eloquence as you can muster.

“There’s something living in the pool!” You bark out, erratic. “It’s big and it has zero impulse control and it’s rude! It talks! When it touches me, my skin glows. Then it tried to kiss me, Kaminari! And it’s rude!” You add that in again, because you cannot stress it enough. Hitoshi Shinsou is as unrefined as a piece of driftwood, and he had the audacity to make comments on behalf of your decorum. “It won’t tell me what it’s doing here, either. I offered to get it back into the ocean, but it said it wanted something else, but it won’t tell me what, and I don’t know what to do!”

Denki blinks rapidly, like his eyelashes are repelling every word you toss at him. There’s a beat, he swallows, then his lips tilt up into a knowing grin.

“Alright,” he says, “I see you.”

“You do?” Maybe you had to give Denki a little more credit. That hadn’t been your best description of a nightmare scenario.

“Sure do, little lady. This is some kinda belated birthday prank, huh? Thought you could slide one past me when I was least expecting it! I was thinking that maybe you just forgot about it, but now you’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t ya! Well cutie, I might be dumb, but I’m not stupid!”

Striding into the house, Denki places the shakes and burger bag onto Shuzenji’s kitchen counter. Shoulders deflating, you follow him while he fishes a few fries out of the bag. If he doesn’t get it now, he will soon enough.

“What could it be?” He ponders, tossing a fry into his mouth. He nods towards one of the cups and mumbles about a shake for you, then towards the back door. “Couldn’t be a party—it’s too early for a party. And you don’t talk to many people…”

Ignoring the slight burn, you front Denki, and extend your hand out to his. His eyes widen for a moment, he wipes his hand on his pants, and takes yours.

“I need your help, Denki. Seriously.”

“Yeah,” he says, a touch more reformative. “Okay.”  

What should’ve been some grand reveal, however, turned out to be anything but.

The pool being clean is the first thing you notice, as absurd as that is. It’s now half-filled, with only sprinkles of algae leftover by some miraculous clean-up. There’s no more silver fish swimming around, and all the trash that had previously taken sanctuary in the pool now lays on a mountainous pile with the bra sitting at its peak. Your guest is no longer in the pool—the very clean pool.

Denki chuckles and says, “well, this doesn’t look bad at all. By how hysterical you were on the phone, I was expecting something much worse. Oh! Hello!”

Your jaw drops as Denki waves at Hitoshi—a very comfortable-looking Hitoshi who lounges on one of the reclining pool chairs, head turned back like he’s sun bathing, one leg crossed over the goddamn other. Legs. Attached to feet—feet that definitely were not there when you’d met him.

Tricky, magic fish-man.

“Oh,” Hitoshi says, carefully considering Denki. “We have company?”

The ‘we’ in his statement doesn’t sit right with you anymore than his appearance does. He stands, and both you and Denki gasp when you see his new outfit in its entirety. It’s all royal blue, fine silks, and sheer fabric that only covers the places that would make Denki blush. Puffy, yet flowing sleeves connect to his now two golden cuffs. A heavy gold necklace hangs around him, and he’s got a light sash thrown around mostly his bare chest. A golden, v-shaped belt holds his deep blue harem pants up.

They are the gaudiest goddamn pajamas you’ve ever seen.

Hitoshi moves like water to face Denki, then firmly grasps him by the forearm, yanking the boy forward so that their lips are mere inches away from each other. Noting that there’s no glowing from their contact, you watch as Hitoshi’s indigo eyes slide from Denki’s lips, to you, and shows off a dubious glint.

“Whoops,” Hitoshi murmurs basically into Denki’s mouth. “I almost forgot that you don’t greet people like this here.” He takes a step away and smirks. “Forgive me. I’m Hitoshi Shinsou. You must be the pool guy.”

“Um, yeah. ‘M Denki Kaminari.” Denki laughs nervously. His cheeks burn red, and he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Grabbing onto your hand tightly, he starts back towards the house, towing you along, saying, “excuse us, we just have to—uh. Talk.”

In a tick, you’re whisked right back inside, in the land of private conversations.

“It didn’t look like that before, Denki. I swear to god.” You’re insisting as soon as the door is closed.

“It?!” Denki balks, his cheeks turning even more red. “Do you mean the pool or that hunk of a man hanging around your backyard?!”

“Both, I guess, but I wouldn’t call it a man! It had a giant purple tail before you showed up!!”

“That’s very rude, y’know.” Denki peers back at Hitoshi who’s lackadaisically cleaning his fingertips. “What are their pronouns?”

You imagine Hitoshi surrounded by others like him, all either screaming or clicking to communicate with each other in an inhuman language. “I don’t think pronouns matter wherever it’s from!”

“Hmm.” Denki slides the door open and pops his head out. “‘Scuse me, Hitoshi, what are your pronouns?”

Without missing a beat, Hitoshi answers him. “As in titles? You can call me Shinsou, but if you’re so inclined, I’ll allow you to call me lord.”

“Lord, of course.” More nervous laughter as Denki closes the door. “Lord. That’s a kink thing, right? It’s gotta be!”

“It’s not!” You bark, but Denki doesn’t hear you. Instead, he rushes towards one of the hall mirrors and begins fussing over his hair.

“I honestly can’t believe you did this. I mean, you, of all people. You’re braver than I gave you credit for. Coulda given me a heads up, though. I would’ve worn somethin’ nice. Or not come at all. I do feel like I’m intruding.” Denki’s eyes light up. “Unless this is for my birthday and you’re…you want me to join you?”

“You’ve lost me.” You're too busy trying to figure out what you can do to convince Denki that Hitoshi is a mermaid. You’ve considered pushing him back into the pool, but you don’t know if that would change him back to his sea-man state, or just make you look like a jackass.

“This is so weird. I haven’t seen that guy on the island before, and believe me, I know everybody. It must’ve cost a pretty penny to get him here. On top of everything else-“ He clears his throat- “how much is this costing you? Does Shuzenji know what you get up to while she’s away?”

It hits you like a freight train. “Oh, Kaminari…No…”

“The jig is up!” Denki stomps his foot defiantly and points towards the door. “You’re paying that man for sex!”

“God no!” The very idea that you’ve paid Hitoshi to be here, to touch you, flusters the hell out of you. If anything, you’d pay for him to leave. “You’d honestly think I’d hire a prostitute?!”

“Escort is the term they are using nowadays, and no, I wouldn’t think you’d hire an escort until now!” Denki scoffs, then moves his hand through his hair, exasperated. “The thing is, babe, you don’t need to. You’re cute and fun! If you got out every once in a while…”

“Fish!” You yell, cutting him off, because you’re not about to have another conversation about your hermit lifestyle. “He’s a fish, Denki! I didn’t fuck a fish! Nor am I planning to!”

Denki blinks at you. Not like before—not like he’s reflecting your words. This blink is more like a blink one would offer someone who’d been having an otherwise normal conversation, until they started talking about the earth being flat, or homosexuals burning in a lake of fire.

I’m not crazy, you think and will Denki to believe. I’ll prove it.

Before you can give Denki a play-by-play of what happened—properly this time, and not just your rambled recall—the door slides open, and Hitoshi steps in.

“May I enter?” The regal-looking man asks.

At the exact same moment you say, “no,” Denki says, “of course.”

“I was just hoping to find something to eat.” Hitoshi stops in the kitchen, arms crossed and expectant.

“You haven’t fed your hooker?” Denki whispers and it blows your mind that he can say hooker and you can’t say prostitute. “You can have half my burger!”

“Burger,” Hitoshi repeats the unfamiliar word, and looks around, probably wondering what it could be. Denki takes the hint and proceeds to fish his meal out of the bag. Overly familiar with Shuzenji’s kitchen, he finds a knife to cut the sandwich in two, then hands one half to Hitoshi.

Hitoshi frowns.

“I’m sorry, are you a vegetarian?” Denki asks, and you can tell he’s being overly hospitable in a house that is not his. When Hitoshi doesn’t answer him, but doesn’t stop frowning, Denki asks, “do you not eat meat?”

“This is meat?” Asks Hitoshi, shaking the burger in the air. Some mayonnaise-covered lettuce falls to the kitchen floor.

“I have to clean that!” You yip and wet a paper towel. When you’re on your knees, Hitoshi gives you a smirk of indifference.

“What, do you not have hamburgers where you’re from?” Denki asks, and when Hitoshi refuses to answer him again, he says, “the meat is the patty. It’s beef.”

“Beef.” Hitoshi begins dissecting the thing, throwing the bun halves, pickles, tomato, and lettuce all on the floor. You continue to curse at him while he sniffs at the patty. “What animal is this?”

“Beef is cow, dude.” Denki sounds more skeptical now, which you’d be grateful for if you weren’t already on your hands and knees, scrubbing ketchup out of the tile. “Man, throwing food on the floor is rude no matter where you’re from. Babe, you shouldn’t have to clean that up.”

“If I don’t, who will?” You ask, sardonic.

“There’s not really a floor where I’m from,” Hitoshi says once he swallows his first bite. He places the patty back onto the burger wrap, and steps away from his mess. “At least, there’s no floor when it’s meal time. We just let shells and bones float around until they go down to where they’ll eventually break down and decay.”

Denki asks, “where did you say you were from?”

“He’s a fish, Denki.”

“I didn’t.” Hitoshi gets down on his knees with a wetted paper towel of his own. He swipes at the places you’ve missed, then looks at you. “Tell me, would a not-good person clean up a mess that isn't their own?”

“It’s kind of my job,” you retort and stand so Hitoshi can finish cleaning. Instead, he stands with you.

“And what is his job?” Hitoshi nods towards Denki who looks more and more fretful by the second. “I assume he’s here to provide services. If you’re paying him, shouldn’t he be the one to clean for you? Prepare meals for you? Bend to your whims?”

Denki says, “I’ve got a couple jobs, but I’m not a housekeeper, no.”

“No?” Hitoshi gives out a terse laugh and hands the towel off to Denki. “Clean.”

Denki looks to you for an explanation. You’re about to chew Hitoshi out, when he again says, “clean,” but this time, there’s something attached to his voice. Something that is nothing, but also more. It sends goosebumps up your arms and compels Denki to fall to the floor and obey the command.

“Yes, my lord.” When Denki finishes cleaning and throws the rest of the mess in the bin, he looks at Hitoshi, eyes glossy, waiting.

“Fetch me some water,” says Hitoshi, and after another yes, my lord, Denki begins searching for a glass.

“Quit it!” You shout and very nearly grab on to Hitoshi’s arm, stopping only when you remember the glow and the prickles that accompany his touch. Decidedly, you hurry after Denki and grab the glass from his hands and snap your fingers in front of his face.

Denki blinks, and this time it’s not because he doesn’t hear you, and it’s not because you’re spouting crazy nonsense. He blinks, and it’s a revelation.

“Hypnosis!” Denki says the word like eureka! and you want to shake him, because he should be angrier than he seems.

“I’m surprised you understand or even remember that much,��� Hitoshi drawls. “You’re more in-tune than you’d like people to believe.”

And I’m Mother Teresa, you think bitterly. The fish is contemptuous as hell, but he doesn’t read people well. To him, you’re good and apparently Denki’s a genius.

“How did you do that?” Denki asks with growing excitement. “When I was a kid, I was really into magic, but could never get any of the tricks right. You didn’t use any triggering noises or images or anything.”

“There is a bit of magic about you,” Hitoshi says like he’s thinking out loud. “Not enough to pull something like what I just did off unless you have the proper tide jewel. But you do have enough power to utilize a tide jewel.”

“Don’t do that again,” you warn, and pour water from the sink into the glass. There’s purified water in the fridge, but Hitoshi hasn’t earned it. “To Kaminari or to me. The difference between a house guest and a home-invader is who does and does not use hypnosis on other guests.”

“I wasn’t aware that hypnosis is a common occurrence in your residence.” Hitoshi reaches for the glass, but you hold it away from him. Casting out a withering look, he says, “I wouldn’t be able to hypnotize him again, even if I wanted to. Not for a while, anyways. Not without my tide jewel.”

“What’s a tide jewel?” Denki asks. “Is that, like, sea glass?”

Eyes flicking from the glass of water, to Denki, then to you, Hitoshi says, “he knows how to ask a question.”

The questions that you ask get ignored! But instead of saying that, you continue to withhold the water, and say, “then answer him.”

Mildly peeved, Hitoshi turns his attention back to Denki. “You say you have a couple of jobs. What would they be?”

“That’s not answering his question,” you mutter.

“I’ll decide whether I should answer him in a moment. Denki, if you will.”

“Oh, well…” The sheepish Denki brings his hand to the back of his neck, blushing slightly. “I’ve got the PoolPros gig, and sometimes I pick shifts up at The Salty Barrel. I sort of got an affinity for making drinks…and cooking…and fixing things, so they like to keep me around.”

Unamused, Hitoshi pries. “Anything else?”

“Sometimes I pick up odd jobs. Fishing and delivery. I guess I’m pretty dependable because of the boat.”

This catches Hitoshi’s attention. “You have a boat?”

“Sure, yeah. It’s nothin’ too special yet. I’ve been working on it, and it’s coming along, but it’s not ready for what it’s truly intended for.”

“Which would be?”

Denki looks at you and winks, making your ears warm. You know exactly why he got the boat.

“Romantic rendezvous.”

“I see,” Hitoshi says pensively. Then, his eyes go sharp when he notices you fiddling with the ties on your shorts. “Are you two mates?”

Denki lifts a conspiratorial brow towards you, before throwing his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his body. “Sure, yeah—we’re mates!”

You push away from him, and bite, “not those kinds of mates.”

Although nobody disagrees with you, you sense Denki sulking.

“Ah,” Shinsou muses. “You haven’t yet fought for her hand?”

Before you can groan at the idea, Denki laughs quietly, but his laughter quickly grows uproariously as he considers the idea. Soon, he’s gripping his stomach to stop himself from doubling over. You glare at his feet.

“As if there’s another guy to fight for her,” Denki bellows, wiping a tear away from his eye. “Maybe if she ever went out, but for now, the only person I gotta fight for her hand, is her!”

“Oh, I understand,” Shinsou says, eyes on you. “A battle to assert domination.”

Denki hoots loudly at the idea. “Looks like I’m screwed!”

To your growing agitation and embarrassment, Denki continues to laugh. It’s as if you’re not constantly shooting him down. You’re not pitiful. Not helpless. And you think you’d have some game if you put your heart into it. You just have a type, and the pool guy just doesn’t fit the bill, whether he’s handy or not.

There’s no humor to be found in Hitoshi’s eyes, though. He’s glaring at you, like before, only now he’s looking at you more like you’re a piece of meat—like he’s some kind of predator and you’re his newfound prey. You inadvertently step closer to Denki, as if he could be used as some sort of defense shield, then elbow him in the ribs, pretending that you’re not at all intimidated by this fish-turned-man.

“Nobody’s fighting anybody,” you say, keeping eye-contact with Hitoshi. You’ve been told before that the fact that you’re never the first to look away is a little off-putting. Hoping to have the same uncomfortable effect on your guest, you don’t even blink when you say, “I just have my eyes on someone special.”

At the same time Denki stops his laughing, Hitoshi narrows his eyes—not out of malice, but what seems to be curiosity. That’s as far as you’ll go with revealing any more personal information. You might not be physically spoken for, yet, but at least you’re emotionally unavailable. You vaguely wonder if those kinds of ideals are acknowledged by sea people.

“Yeah, Kiri,” Denki says with a roll of his eyes. So much for keeping things personal. “He’s not interested in dating anyone, though. In fact, he’s pretty much married to the ocean.”

“At least there aren’t other girls,” you say, and with a quick glance at Denki, you add, “or boys.”

Denki exaggerates a woeful, hand-over-forehead pose and cries, “at least we have each other!” Then, he places his hand back around your shoulders. Again, you scoot away from him, and this time, you catch Hitoshi’s lips quirk up, just a bit.

“Alright,” Hitoshi says. “I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?” You ask.

“That the two of you are going to help me.”

The fish-man moves to flatten the burger wrap down on the counter like a map, and proceeds to decimate the other half of Denki’s burger. Denki says, “oh that’s fine…I wasn’t that hungry anyways.”

“Help you with what!” You bark, practically starving for details. Despite Hitoshi and all that he’s done, your interest is piqued, and you feel as though you’re finally going to get to the meat of his situation.

Lining a few fries on the paper wrap, Hitoshi finally says, “a few of my worldly possessions have been stolen from me. They’ve been missing for quite a long time now, and I now plan to take them back. Four of the six items happen to be tide jewels. I figure those will be the easiest to locate and extract.”

Denki snaps his finger. “Tide jewels! That’s what we were talking about! What are those?

Dabbing his pinky into some mustard, Hitoshi says, “artistry…” He dips his ring finger into the ketchup and says, “reign…” he tears a piece of lettuce in half and says, “tide…” and finally, he rips some of the patty and says, “soul.”

“Artistry, reign, tide, soul,” Denki repeats, peeking over Hitoshi’s shoulder. “You don’t happen to be a musician, do you? A magician musician!”

“I’m a connoisseur, but not a practitioner.” Hitoshi breathes. “And you’re too close to me.”

“Well, you’re certainly not an artist,” Denki huffs, taking a few steps back. You move in to see what Denki saw.

On the wrap, the French fries have been warped to look like some sort of three-pronged fork. On the left prong, there’s a dab of ketchup, in the center, mustard, and the right has a piece of lettuce sitting on it. Connecting the three prongs is the bit of hamburger meat Hitoshi had ripped.

“Is this supposed to be a fork or a trident?” You ask, then kick yourself, because it’s obviously a trident. Duh. Mermaids. “Is that one of the things that have been stolen? A trident?”

Hitoshi says, “yes. All four of the tide jewels connect to the trident. With them, the trident could very well be one of the most powerful blessed objects on this planet. If it falls into the wrong hands, the results could be catastrophic.”

“Now, hang on,” Denki begins, brows curved into a frown. “What?”

“So good at questions,” you murmur.

“Each tide jewel has its own magical property. The names speak for themselves, but since the two of you are a little slow on the uptake, I’ll explain.” Hitoshi points at each different spot on his fries-trident, explaining what each point represents.

“The yellow jewel is for artistry and skill. Whoever wields it, whether in its natural form or attached to another object, will learn trades quickly, can craft almost anything at a master’s level, and they’ll have a more creative way of thinking.”

“The red jewel is for reign and rule. Whoever wields this can command any audience. Wars have been fought, kingdoms taken, and women stolen by the power of this gem. It’s almost the most violent of the four, but it can also be used to keep peace.”

“The blue jewel is for the tide. They used to be two jewels, one for tide-ebbing, the other for tide-flowing, but they’ve been molded together after another theft mishap. With the power of this jewel, one would be able to control not only the water of the sea, but water itself. This gem can create storms you couldn’t dream of. This is possibly the most dangerous stone if placed into the wrong hands.”

“Sir, that’s a piece of lettuce,” Denki says.

“Your burger didn’t have anything blue,” Hitoshi growls, “nor did it have anything purple, which brings me to the last jewel. This would be the soul jewel. It aids people with wishes, can offer good dreams, and can allow the wielder to see people’s auras, or souls. This jewel has stopped many malevolent unions in the past.”

Finally, Hitoshi turns back to you and Denki. There’s nothing content about his expression now. If anything, he looks grave.

“The fact that the trident is not in my possession has already had a cataclysmic influence on the world you know now. I need it, and the jewels, or else there may be dire consequences.”

Throat dry, palms sweaty, you swallow thickly, and allow yourself a moment to process all that he’s saying. It may be idiotic, but you believe him. Maybe if you hadn’t seen him in the water earlier, things would be different. You’d be more skeptical. But since you’ve already seen one impossible thing today—two if you're counting the fact that Hitoshi grew legs and magically poofed himself an outfit—you don’t think he’s lying.

However, Denki did not see him in the water. Which is why he’s the first to speak.

“Right,” he says, looking down on you. “Sorry, babe, but the marvel universe did it first with Thanos and his gauntlet. If this is supposed to be a scavenger hunt of some kind, can we skip the game, hints and all, and get to the dinner? I expect there’ll be candles and such for nighttime, so maybe you and I can hang out at the beach, sans the mean magician?” Denki looks at Hitoshi. “No offense, buddy. You could join us if you cheer up a bit. I’d never say no to a threesome with two equally attractive people.”

The water in the glass you’re holding begins to shake. It shakes, and then it moves, and then it lifts up into the air, snaking around like a gelatinous worm, and slowly makes its away to Hitoshi’s mouth. Never before have you seen anyone swallow menacingly, and this has changed it.

“I am not your buddy,” Hitoshi hisses between his teeth, “and this is not a game.”

“He just…” Denki begins stuttering. This isn’t something he can chock up to something as mundane as a magic trick. This is pure magic, and you feel less like a giant dork for how you reacted to Hitoshi showing himself to you, with how distraught Denki seems to be.

“I told you,” you say under your breath, “he’s a fish!”

“I am Hitoshi Shinsou. I am one of Ryūjin, and you will not desecrate my name or my people by belittling me or my power.” It hadn’t occurred to you until now that he’s not only speaking to Denki, but to both of you. The thought makes you shift with unease as Hitoshi’s eyes slide from your friend to you. “Not without consequences. I’ve been burdened with this purpose, and the two of you can choose to help me and reap the rewards that follow, or you can return to your miserable lives, loligagging and ogling the things you know you want, but are too lazy to obtain.”

At this moment, Hitoshi Shinsou seems ancient to you. Trepidation crawls up your spine, chilling you to the bone. You regret most of what you’ve said to him, even the things you’d thought he deserved. You have an inkling that if Hitoshi really wanted to harm you, or Denki, he would. Easily.

“Okay, well-“ Denki, again speaks first, thank god. “You didn’t say there would be rewards.”

Maybe don’t thank god yet. But before you can apologize on Denki’s behalf, the air that you hadn’t realized had got heavier, thicker even, lifts, and Hitoshi eases up, lackadaisical smirk back on track.

“You both wish for something,” he says. “If you help me retrieve what’s rightfully mine, I will graciously return the favor by granting your wishes.”

“We do?” Denki asks. It’s wild to you how easily he could jump back into conversation like this, although, when you look closely at him, you can see that he’s trembling faintly. “What do I want?”

“You wish for a boat,” Hitoshi says, “so I will give you a boat.”

“I have a boat.”

“I’ll give you a better boat.” Hitoshi seems to be enjoying himself now, even going so far as to lean on the table, picturing exactly what he’s describing. “A captivating boat that both women and men find irresistible. It will sail smoother and faster than the other vessels out on sea. You will never want or need for an upgrade for it will never wear or tear.”

“A super boat,” Denki muses, beguiled by the idea. It’s your turn to be skeptical now, because you haven’t wished for anything. At least, not aloud for Hitoshi to hear.

“Then, what do I get?” You ask, arms crossed. You can admit that you’re interested in what he might have to say.

“Oh darlin’, that’s easy,” Hitoshi purrs, and moves from the counter over to you. Slowly, like he’s savoring your anticipation. Lifting a finger to your arm, he slides it across your skin, watching as both the glow and the tingles return. You have to hold your breath to yourself from sighing.

“You want to be loved,” he says, “adored even. And not just by anybody. You want to be with your soulmate, isn’t that right. That may be why you came to this island to begin with.”

There’s no way he could’ve known that you’re new to the island. Nobody said anything about it. But he’s not wrong. Though you can’t say he’s right either. You came to the island in hopes to find…yourself. And though you haven’t yet found yourself, you sure as hell found Kirishima. And soulmate has a nice right to it.

“So if we help you find these gems—“

“—tide jewels,” he intervenes.

“Tide jewels-“ you roll your eyes- “then you will give Denki a super boat, and you will unite me with a soulmate?”

“Exactly,” Hitoshi confirms. “Easy peesy, isn’t it?”

“How do we know you’ll uphold your end of the bargain?” Denki asks, finally out of his super boat daydreams.

“I said you were good with questions.” Hitoshi smirks. “You don’t know. You can’t know. But you can either do this with me, and probably get a super boat and a soulmate out of it, or you can not, and get nothing.”

Denki side-eyes you, and you him. You hold each other’s gazes for a brief moment, and you already know how this would play out if you refuse. Denki would convince you to do it. You don’t do anything, he says with his eyes. Might as well hang around and see how this plays out.

“Fine.” Even though your good conscience screams at you to do otherwise, you let up. “We’ll help you.”

“Excellent.” Hitoshi beams, or at least, he beams in a way only someone who was just threatening two other people can beam. “Then we should start our search today. We’ll probably need to go into town and see if there are any supernatural occurrences or old folktales to check out.”

Going out to town is the last thing you’d planned on doing today. Or maybe the second to last thing you planned on doing. You have to ask, because if you don’t, you’ll go batsy.

“We won’t be getting wet, will we?”

Hitoshi scoffs, which isn’t an answer. Maybe you really don’t ask the right questions because when Denki asks, “you said there were six things you need to retrieve. What’s the sixth thing?” Hitoshi winks at you, and grins. And when he grins, your stomach aches.

[takahero]

some descriptions of Basta in Inkheart if you’re interested!! spoiler warning just to be on the safe side, in case u haven’t read it. and my unsolicited commentary here and there

“‘Naturally I recognised them at once. Capricorn had sent his best men. Even Basta was with them.’” — pg.99

“Rasping cat’s-tongue voice” pg.125

“(Basta’s face) was thin, sharply angular, with close-set eyes…Basta was not a tall man, and his shoulders were almost as narrow as a boy’s, but Meggie held her breath when he took a step towards her…He had an aura of fury about him, or something keen and biting—” pg.126

“Only Basta wore a snow-white shirt, just as Dustfinger had said, with a red flower in the buttonhole of his jacket, a red flower like a warning.” pg.131

“He caught her eye, and with a twisted smile kissed the blade of his knife.” — pg.173 (I JUST HAD TO ADD THIS)

“‘Oh, Basta can’t write,’ replied Capricorn calmly. ‘None of my men can either read or write. I’ve forbidden them to learn.’” — pg.176 (literacy rights for Basta 2k21)

“She could see the trepidation even on Basta’s face, although he was doing his best to hide it by assuming a particularly bored expression.” — pg.185

“‘Abduction!’ Basta savoured the word. ‘Sounds good to me. Really good.’” — pg.192 (ok but if u read it a certain way. unofficial evidence that basta would enjoy reading if he could LMAO)

“‘Where’s our luggage?’ she asked.

“Dustfinger looked at her with amusement. ‘I expect Basta’s divided it out among Capricorn’s maids. He likes to ingratiate himself with them.’” — pg.213 LMAOOOOOOO OH MY GOD

“Basta was still standing in the road. His face was sharply outlined when he lit a cigarette with a lighter.” — pg.215

“And he bent down to cut through the leather thong that Basta wore around his neck. It had a little bag tied with a red drawstring hanging from it.” — pg. 231

“‘Ah, Basta!’ Fenoglio smiled. Each of his separate wrinkles expressed self-satisfaction. ‘One of the best villains I ever thought up. A rabid dog, but not half as bad as my other dark hero, Capricorn. Basta would let his heart be torn out for Capricorn, but his master is a stranger to such loyalty.’” — pg.264

“‘You know, if you were to ask me which of those two I was prouder of, Basta or Capricorn, I couldn’t tell you! Even though some critics said they were just too nasty!’” — pg.265

“Basta emphasised the word, putting his foxy face so close to Meggie’s she could see herself reflected in his eyes.” — pg.301

“‘You’ll do no such thing!’ he spat at Flatnose, as the grey cat disappeared under the wardrobe. ‘Killing cats is unlucky. How often do I have to tell you?’” — pg.303 (friendly reminder that the last time he appeared, he kicked a dog in the ribs 😐)

“Basta was walking just behind her, and she heard him quietly cursing the rain.” — pg.304 (irrelevant but i kind of hc basta to like the rain, since it would dampen dustfinger’s showbiz LMAO)

“Basta’s eyes always narrowed when he smiled.” — pg.305

“‘You wear long sleeves,’ Fenoglio continued very slowly, as if giving Basta time to take in every single word, ‘because your master likes playing with fire. You burned both arms right up to the shoulders when you obeyed his orders and set fire to the house of a man who had dared to refuse his daughter to Capricorn. Ever since then, someone else has laid the fire, and you confine yourself to playing games with knives.’” — pg.308

“‘Oh, I know all about you, Basta,’ he said. ‘I know you’d give your life for Capricorn any day, and you’re always hungry for his praise. I know you were younger than Meggie when his men picked you up, and ever since you’ve loved him like a father. But shall I tell you something? Capricorn thinks you’re stupid, and despises you for it. He despises you all, his devoted black-clad sons, although it’s his own doing that you’re still so ignorant. And he wouldn’t hesitate to set the police on to any one of you if it was to his advantage. Are you quite clear about that?’” — pg.308 (FENOGLIO…..RUTHLESS)

“Basta winked at Meggie.” — pg.310 (wink 1)

“Every cruel deed with which he had ever credited Basta was probably going through his head. Basta relished the fear on his face for a few delicious minutes.” — pg.312

“Basta’s car had not been in the car park at all since they’d come here. It was unusual for it to be gone so long, because Basta didn’t like to be away from the village for any length of time.” — pg.318 basta is a homebody guys

“‘Save your tongue for later, scribbler!” Basta interrupted. ‘I don’t like whispering.’” — pg.324

“Almost all the women in the village kept away from Basta, but he didn’t keep away from them.” — pg.337

“‘Take him, for instance,’ he said, pointing to Basta. ‘I always knew he was a very unhappy boy before you picked him up. As it says in another very fine book, it’s terribly easy to persuade children that they are worthless. Basta was convinced of it. Not that you taught him any better, oh no! Why would you? But suddenly here was someone to whom he could devote himself, someone who told him what to do — he’d found a god, Capricorn, and if you treated him badly, well, who says that all gods are kindly? Most of them are stern and cruel, wouldn’t you agree? I didn’t write all this in the book. I knew it, that was enough.’” — pg.345 (this is really the part that made my stance toward basta change. like PHEW. that’s a lot to unpack)

“Basta was notorious for his silent tread.” — pg.363

“Basta’s breath smelled of mint, fresh and sharp. Apparently a girl he’d once wanted to kiss had told him he had bad breath. The girl had regretted it, but ever since then Basta chewed peppermint leaves from morning to night.” — pg.364

“He whistled softly through his teeth, then held the book close to Meggie’s face.”— pg.374 (i was rendered speechless)

“Basta’s lips quivered with annoyance, but he bit back his reply and, without a word, put his hand under the black cloth.” — pg.377 (ugh I loved this. like we know he worships capricorn like a dog, but earlier fenoglio flat out told him capricorn couldn’t care less about what happened to him. more than that, capricorn asked basta to bring meggie and fenoglio — prisoners — into his home. later dustfinger says that basta would’ve slept on the threshold of capricorn’s room if he could but none of the men sleep there. so with all of this fresh in his mind, you can imagine him feeling quite hurt and betrayed. UGH I wish he had a greater arc surrounding capricorn…like even if we saw a few hints that his loyalty was starting to show cracks…idk what his arc is in inkspell so maybe I’ll sit tight for that)

“He was in a hurry to get back to the light of day, away from the dead and their ghosts. His hand shook as he hung his lantern on a book and opened the grating over the first cell.” — pg.409

“Dustfinger was always surprised to find how easily you could scare the man with a few words.” — pg.409 LMAOOOOO

“‘That notion of burning us isn’t a very new idea, Basta, but then you were never fond of new ideas.’” — pg.422

“His teeth were almost as white as his shirt.” — pg.442

“Meggie saw from his face that everything in him felt revulsion, but he came closer and took the creature. He held the scaly body well away from him as it wound and twisted in the air.

“‘As you see, Basta doesn’t care for my snakes!’ said the Magpie, with a smile. ‘He never did, not that that means much. As far as I know Basta doesn’t like anything but his knife. He also believed that snakes bring bad luck, which of course is pure nonsense.’ Mortola handed Basta the second snake. Meggie saw the viper’s tiny poison fangs when it opened its mouth. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Basta.” — pg.446

“‘Basta likes to use snakes to scare women who reject his advances. It didn’t work with Resa. How did it go exactly — didn’t she finally put the snake outside your door, Basta?’” — pg.446 (10/10 resa & snake well-deserved)

“Basta did not want neighbours. Indeed, he wanted no other company but Capricorn’s. Dustfinger knew Basta would have slept on the threshold of Capricorn’s room if he had been allowed to, but none of the men lived in the main house.” — pg.478

“Basta was probably the only man in Capricorn’s village who locked his front door.” — pg.480

“They said in the village that whenever Capricorn had a house set on fire Basta took away a brick or stone, even though he feared fire at other times, and clearly that story was true.” — pg.480

“(Everything in Basta’s house was scrubbed clean, as spotless as his snow-white shirt.)” — pg.481

“Once or twice, footsteps approached, but each time they passed by the house. What a good thing Basta had no friends.” — pg.482

“Basta was not in a good way. Whenever they looked at him they saw his hands clinging to the bars, knuckles white under his sun-tanned skin.” — pg.503 (BASTA’S SUNTANNED?!?!)

“Basta in particular was the object of enough scorn and derision for ten men, and from his failure to react at all one could only guess at the depths of his despair.” — pg.503

“For the fraction of a second life came back into Basta as his former lord and master stopped by the bars; he raised his head, his eyes pleading silently, like a dog begging for forgiveness…Basta only bowed his head and stared at the floor. Elinor thought he looked like an oyster with the flesh and life sucked out of it.” — pg.504 (i honestly still can’t wrap my head around his behaviour in this chap. i mean yes, the gladiator-style death sentence looming over his head can’t be understated. but i think for me it was how rapidly his spirits deteriorated from screaming for help in the cell to becoming a husk of a man before he even saw capricorn again? how?? was it all because of dustfinger spooking him so bad in the crypt?? 🤔🤔)

[albertasunrise]

Mistakes - Chapter 1

Summary: You’d known it was a bad idea to get involved with Javier Peña. You were just another notch on his bedpost but you were a notch he kept revisiting. You know you should have stopped it, declined his offers to rock your world but you couldn’t and now you had to deal with the consequences. Consequences that you knew he would refuse to accept.

Warnings: Angst, References to sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mentions of Abortion

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader

§

As you stared at those two lines you felt your stomach twist. How was this happening? You’d been careful, always using protection so how was it that you were now looking at a positive pregnancy test. You’d known it was a bad idea to get involved with Javier Peña. You were just another notch on his bedpost but you were a notch he kept revisiting. You know you should have stopped it, declined his offers to rock your world but you couldn’t and now you had to deal with the consequences. Consequences that you knew he would refuse to accept.

‘Fuck.’ You sobbed as you placed the test down and picked up the other, it too telling you the same thing ‘Shit… What am I going to do?’

Were you ready to be a mum?

Should you get rid of it?

No, you’d never be able to do that.

You knew you had to tell him but how? How were you supposed to tell the most desired man at the embassy that your casual relations with him had led to this? A baby

You walked from the bathroom and sank onto the couch, placing the tests on the coffee table as you let your tears flow freely now. You were pulled from your cries by a knock at the door and after wiping your tears and letting out a few shaky breaths you answered, not getting a chance to see who it was but the familiar lips on yours told you. He kissed you with fervour but you can’t return it, you don’t want to and he senses that quickly.

‘What's the matter Cariño? He asked as he kissed down your neck ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all day.’

‘Don’t Javi.’ You said as you pushed him off of you, avoiding his gaze as you made your way back to the couch.

‘What the hell is up with you?’ He growled, angered by your rejection of his advances.

‘Javier please.’ You sobbed then, throwing your face into your hands.

Javier’s stomach sank, his anger replaced with worry as he sprinted to your side and dropped to his knees in front of you, missing the two sticks of plastic on your coffee table. He grabbed your hands and pulled them from your face, cupping it in his hands as he lifted it so your eyes were level with his.

‘What's going on?’ He asked, brow furrowed in concern ‘Has something happened?’

You could only nod, eyes settling on the tests that sat just behind him. His gaze followed yours and stopped on the offending items, eyes growing wide as he saw what they said and his head quickly whipped back to face you.

‘You’re?’

You nodded, letting out another sob as your hand unconsciously came to rest on your belly.

‘Who’s is it?’ He asked and this made you look up at him in disbelief.

‘Who’s do you think?’

‘Well, I don’t know who else you've been sleeping with.’ He grumbled and you gave him a chilling look before shifting out of his grasp.

‘Fuck you, Javier.’ You spat, shoulders shaking as you walked to your kitchen.

‘What?’

‘I haven’t slept with anyone else Javi.’ You announced, the cogs in his mind whirring ‘I haven’t been with anyone but you. Men don't exactly throw themselves at me.’

‘But we-.’ He paused as he took in the information ‘No this isn’t possible. How?’

‘I don’t fucking know Javi.’ You snapped ‘Condoms aren’t a hundred per cent effective, everyone knows that. I guess one failed.’

‘I…Uh.’ He stuttered, unsure of what to say ‘I’ll speak to Connie.’ He said finally ‘See if we can get you booked in for a termination.’

‘A termination?’

‘Well you’re not seriously considering keeping it are you?’ He inquired, his tone exasperated ‘I mean you’re in no position to raise a kid. We should get rid of it.’

‘Get the fuck out.’

‘Cariño.’

‘OUT!.’

‘Please just think about this. We can’t have a baby together. We fuck casually, I don’t want a relationship and I certainly don’t want a kid. I can’t give you what you want. You’ll be alone in this.’

‘That's fine Javi. I guessed I would be.’ You growled ‘You have no right however to tell me to get rid of it. I’m going to have this baby with or without you. Just know that they’ll never know you. I refuse to let them know a father that told me to get rid of them… Now get the fuck out of my house.’

‘Cariño.’

‘GO!.’

He left and you stood there, seething on the spot. You knew he wasn’t going to react well but you'd never expected him to suggest you terminate it. That had never been an option for you. You sobbed a little at the knowledge you’d be doing this alone, suddenly very aware of how alone you really were and after glancing at the clock and seeing was barely seven you decided to pay Connie a visit.

…

‘You’re what?’ She exclaimed, a little shocked by the news you'd just told her.

‘I was surprised too.’

‘Who’s is it?’

‘Connie…’

‘It’s Javi’s isn't it?’

‘Well, I haven’t been with anyone else since I arrived here a year ago.’ You confirmed and she gasped.

‘You told him?’ She asked

You nodded.

‘How did he take it?’

‘Told me to get rid of it.’

‘He what?’ She yelled and you flinched a little ‘Sorry.’ She apologised.

‘He said he doesn’t want a relationship, which I already knew, and that he doesn’t want kids. Told me it was for the best but it was never an option for me Con. I figured I’d be raising this baby alone. Just never thought he'd tell me to terminate it.’

‘He’s a fucking idiot.’ Piped up Steve, sipping from his beer ‘I can kick the shit out of him if you like.’

‘And what will that achieve?’ You chuckled ‘No, it's fine. This baby will never know him.’ You declared ‘I’ll make sure of it. It’ll never feel unwanted.’

~

Connie managed to get an appointment in the clinic for you to get your first scan and even attended it with you. As you lay were, shivering from the jelly that the doctor had squirted on your stomach it all became very real to you. Placing the prob on your skin, she started to move it around and you fixed your eyes on Connie, nerves starting to get the better of you.

Then you heard it.

‘There we are.’ Said the doctor as she turned the screen ‘See that little shape there?’ You nodded ‘That’s your baby.’ She stated ‘Judging from this I'd say you’re around 9 weeks along. Strong heartbeat. Everything looks good.’

‘Wow.’ Said Connie, her eyes glued to the screen ‘That’s the most wonderful thing I think I’ve ever seen, don’t you think?’

‘Yeah.’ You replied, letting out a choked sob as you watched your baby on the screen.

‘I shall print some pictures for you.’ Said the doctor, smiling at you both ‘Would you like some too?’ She asked Connie and the woman nodded eagerly.

…

‘So that thing there that looks like a cashew… that’s the baby?’ Asks Steve, nose scrunched as he studied the pictures.

‘Yup.’ You replied, grinning at him ‘I’ve grown a cashew.’

Connie giggled at that, refreshing your lemonade as you glanced at the pictures yourself.

‘Still can’t believe that there’s a tiny being growing inside of me.’ You said, a few stray tears slipping down your cheeks ‘I love them so much already and I haven’t even met them properly yet.’

‘It’s going to be so loved.’ Said Connie ‘I’ve already bought a tone of wool to knit it some cute bits.’

‘I didn’t know you knit!’

‘Ahhhh.’ Said Steve, waving the picture at you ‘She’s a woman of mystery my wife!’

~

‘Gah!’ Squealed Connie as you walked out of the changing room ‘Look at that bump!’ She squealed with excitement ‘How have you been hiding that from us?’

Connie had dragged you out to find a dress for the office Christmas Party. You really didn’t want to go, you were four months pregnant and still suffering from sickness a little but Connie had begged you to come shopping with her and that’s when she’d found this dress for you. A pale mint green that suited your complexion perfectly.

‘Baggy t-shirts and loose blouses my friend.’ You replied with a wink ‘What do you think?’ You asked as you gave her a twirl, the sundress accentuating your growing belly ‘Doesn’t just make me look fat does it?’

‘NO!’ She practically screamed ‘You are glowing.’

‘Do we have to go to this party?’ You groaned ‘I can’t drink so it's going to be a bore for me.’

‘I’ll stay sober with you!’ announces Connie, determined to convince you to come.

‘Is Javi going?’

‘Doubt it.’ She replied ‘Not really his scene.’ She paused, pulling her best puppy eyes ‘Please.’

‘Fine.’ You groaned ‘But you have to stay sober.’

‘Promise.’

~

‘You said he wouldn’t be here.’ You snapped at Connie, seething at the sight of Javier drinking at the bar with Steve.

The hall was decorated with traditional Christmas decorations, a large tree at the centre of the far wall twinkled with fairy lights that gave an aura of magic to the room.

‘I said I doubted he’d come.’ She retorted, raising her hands in mock surrender.

‘I need to leave.’

‘No, you’re here now. Come on.’ She begs ‘You don’t have to speak to him.’

You’d managed to avoid him pretty well since announcing to him that you were having his baby and he’d avoided you too. Steve kept you up to date and you knew that he hadn’t asked about you or the baby and that had made it crystal clear for you. You really were in this alone. There had been a small part of you that hoped he'd change his mind, tell you he wanted this. Wanted you but you knew you were fooling yourself. Javier Peña doesn’t settle and he certainly wouldn’t settle for a girl like you.

‘Come on, let's get us a drink.’

‘No alcohol remember.’ You remind her, and she rolled her eyes.

‘Yes, I know.’ She groaned.

You noticed Javier looking at you from the corner of your eye when you approached the bar but you didn’t return his gaze, you kept your eyes fixed on Connie as you flagged down the barman with one hand and cradled your bump with the other. Thumb stroking the fabric that covered your swell.

…

Javier studied you as Steve talked to him about a game he’d caught on the weekend. You looked good. Simple makeup, hair up in a loose bun with few curls framing your face and the sundress you wore suited you perfectly. As his eyes trailed over your body before they settled on your hand, the way it sat on your stomach highlighting your growing bump.

‘She’s showing.’ He said suddenly as his eyes growing wide, stopping Steve dead.

‘What?’ He asked, a little confused at the change of subject.

‘She’s showing.’ He said again and Steve followed his gaze to you, also noting your swollen stomach.

‘Shit yeah, she is.’ He replied, smiling to himself ‘You’ve been a fucking ass to her.’

“What?’ Javier snapped.

‘She’s four months pregnant with your baby and not once have you asked how she is. How the pregnancy’s going. Nothing.’

‘I don’t want it.’

‘Doesn’t fucking matter Javi.’ Steve scolded ‘You are that babies father and you’re doing fuck all to help her. What would your dad think if he knew?’

‘Steve-.’

‘She’s fine by the way. In case you do give a shit.’ He interrupted ‘Con’s been taking really good care of her. Went to her first scan, got her a bunch of books. Been arranging all her appointments for her.’ He took a swig of his whiskey ‘Baby’s doing well too. Cooking nicely.’

‘That’s great’ Javier growled, downing the last of his drink and storming out.

…

You noticed him leave but you didn't care. If anything, you were relieved. The rest of the evening went fairly well after that. He did come back but he avoided you and you did the same. You danced, you laughed and you enjoyed yourself for the first time in that felt like years, your worries melting away. For a night you didn't worry about the future. The fact that you had no family to help you raise the baby or that its father didn't want it. You just focused on your friends, the music and yourself.

~

‘Thank you for arranging this Con.’ You said as you took her hand ‘You’ve been so amazing.’

It had been a month since the Christmas party and you’d not seen Javier since. You were a little surprised that you hadn’t run into him in the hall since your apartments were across from each other but you suspected that wasn't an accident but it didn't bother you. He was going you the space you’d demanded.

‘What are best friends for?’ She replied, smiling at you sweetly.

‘Well, they don’t normally arrange all your antenatal appointments for you.’

‘I work at the clinic.’ She chuckled ‘Easy for me to sort it for you.’ She gave your hand a squeeze ‘You nervous?’

‘A little.’ You confessed ‘Last time I was here they were teeny.’ You continued ‘Now look at me.’ You finished as you motioned to your very visible bump.

‘You’ll be able to learn the sex.’ Connie stated and you looked at her with comically wide eyes ‘You want to know?’

‘More than anything.’ You admitted ‘Been killing me not knowing. Makes getting for it things hard.’ You giggled.

Your name was called and you were led into a familiar room where you laid on the bed and lifted your shirt like before, hissing at the cold of the jelly again. She places the probe on your belly and moved it around, finding the baby quickly this time. You swooned at the sound of their heartbeat, the consistent thump making your own race.

‘Oh my.’ Squealed Connie ‘Look at it.’ She lamented, tears trickling down her cheeks ‘Hi.’ She giggled when its hand came into view.

‘Would you like to know the sex?’ The doctor asked and you nodded, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth as they focused on the screen again ‘Well it looks to me like you’re having a baby girl.’ She said after a few moments, turning the screen so you could see better ‘Congratulations.’

‘A girl?’ You asked, eyes widening and the doctor nodded.

‘Mhmm.’

‘You’re having a girl.’ Connie squealed and you look up at her with tear-filled eyes.

‘I’m having a girl.’ You grinned, laughing as you sobbed with joy.

‘I’ll print lots of pictures again.’ The doctor said, grinning at your reaction.

You practically skipped out of the clinic pictures in hand and Steve waved at you as you clambered into his truck, giggling as Connie shoved the pictures into his hand.

‘Well, now I can tell it’s a baby.’ He said and you rolled your eyes.

‘That's my daughter you’re talking about.’ You declared and he turned to face you and beamed.

~

‘You boys done?’ Asked Connie as she stopped beside the table, noting that Steve had eaten all his food but Javier had barely touched his.

They’d been pouring over paperwork and pictures for hours and coming up empty-handed. Running a hand through his hair, he looked up at his partner’s wife and gave her a weak smile.

‘Um yeah… Thanks, Con.’

‘Nah come on, finish your food.’ Grumbled Steve ‘You’ve not eaten all day.’

‘I guess I just don’t have much of an appetite.’ Stated Javier as he pushed his plate away.

He hadn’t had one since he’d seen you at that Christmas party. Seeing you there glowing, round with his child, had brought out all these feelings in him that he was struggling with. He wasn’t sure what it was he was feeling but he knew that he missed you. Pined for you. That was painfully clear to him.

‘You never do.’ Steve retorted, pulling him from his thoughts ‘You live off of ex and Whiskey. Amazed you’re not thinner.’

‘Fuck off Murphy.’ He growled, grabbing his beer and drinking the last of it before placing it down on the counter in the kitchen ‘Thanks for Din…’ He trailed off as his eyes caught sight of your sonogram pictures, your name and the date above the very clear image of a baby ‘Is this?...’

‘Your baby?’ Snapped Steve and Javier flinched at his change in tone ‘Yup.’

‘She had her 20-week scan yesterday.’ Said Connie softly, watching the way Javier’s eyes softened as he studied the image ‘Here.’ She handed him some more pictures and there was one that caught his attention in particular, a very visible hand above them giving the illusion that they were waving ‘She’s already waving and she’s not even been born yet.’ Connie chuckled as she grabbed his bottle and placed it in the glass bin.

‘She?’ He said suddenly, head whipping up to look at Connie with tears pooling in his eyes ‘It’s a girl?’

‘Yeah.’ She replied, grinning as she nodded excitedly ‘Got so many patterns to do and now I can buy some girly wool. Can’t believe there’s going to be a baby around here soon!’

His hand flew up to his mouth as he let out a sob, eyes returning to the picture that now shook in his grasp as tears splash on its shiny surface. This was a life he’d helped create and it was growing inside of you. He realised how stupid he’d been and he suddenly felt overwhelmed.

‘Hey.’ Said Connie softly as she pulled him into a hug and he sobbed against her shoulder, his body shaking as he cried.

‘I’m going to have a daughter.’ He sobbed ‘And she’ll never know who I am.’

‘You can change that Javier.’ Said Connie, pulling away to look him in the eye ‘You still have a chance to be part of this baby’s life but you need to do something about it.’

‘They’re better off without me.’

‘Seeing these pictures here, how do they make you feel?’ She questioned, glancing at Steve who is watching his partner carefully.

‘I don’t know.’ He answered honestly.

‘When you see her. The baby girl that you helped create. Do you want to know her?’ She asked, hand on his arm rubbing comforting circles.

‘Yes.’ He choked out, eyes drifting up to Connie.

‘Then there is your answer.’ She stated ‘You have a chance to be a part of your daughter’s life but only if you act.’

‘She said I’d never know them.’ He sobbed ‘She swore it.’

‘You had just told her to get an abortion.’ Piped up Steve and Connie threw him an angry look.

‘How about I speak to her. Arrange for the three of us to sit down and talk this all out.’ She suggested and Javier nodded weakly ‘Give me a few days.’

‘Okay.’

~

‘Absolutely not!’ You yelled, angry tears streaming down your cheeks ‘I don’t want to speak to him.’

‘But-.’

‘No buts Con.’ You snarled ‘He wants nothing to do with her and she’ll never know him.’

‘He saw your ultrasound pictures the other night.’ She stated and you looked at her with a confused expression, unsure of where this was going ‘He sobbed when he learned that you’re having a girl. I slipped up when he saw the waving picture. He cried his eyes out. He wants a chance to be a part of her life. You need to give him that chance hun.’ She pleaded ‘Just come round tonight. We’ll talk it out and see what happens.’

‘Why does he suddenly care?’

‘I think the ultrasound made it more real for him.’ She said, shrugging slightly ‘I think him seeing those pictures made him realise he wants this. He just hadn’t known before.’

‘Fine.’ You grumbled ‘But if he steps even a toe out of line, I will make sure he never meets her.’

‘Shit, okay…’ Connie breathed, a little taken aback by your statement ‘See you later.’

~

You sat nervously at Connie’s table, waiting for Javier to arrive. She’d decided that dinner was perhaps not the best way to talk things through, too many ways to get out of not saying anything at all. You rubbed your swollen belly, feeling your stomach twist in knots as you ran through the possible scenarios for how this would go. You weren’t expecting him to confess his love for you and the two of you skip away together, one big happy family. You weren’t sure what you were expecting.

‘That’s him.’ Said Connie as a knock sounded at the door and you felt your heart begin to race.

‘Just breath.’ You said to yourself, glancing up as Connie and Javier appeared through the doorway.

‘Hi.’ He said gingerly, rubbing the back of his neck as he oozed nervousness.

‘Hi.’ You replied, short and curt.

‘Javi why don’t you sit down.’ Said Connie as she pointed to the chair across from you ‘I’ll grab you a beer.’

‘Thanks.’ He replied, giving her a quick nod before taking a seat.

‘How are you?’ He asked in an attempt to break the silence and you rolled your eyes at him.

‘Really?’

‘What?’

'It’s been 5 months and now you want to do small talk?’

‘Carino I-.’

‘I’d appreciated it if you didn’t call me that.’ You growled ‘I’m not your sweetheart.’

‘Here.’ Said Connie as she placed the beer in front of him and he gave her a weak smile.

‘Thanks.’

You all sat there in awkward silence before Connie finally decided that enough was enough. She slammed the sonogram pictures on the table along with some shoes she’d clearly knitted herself. They were tiny and brought tears to your eyes as you studied them. A pale pink with white toes and a large brown wooden button fastened them shut.

‘We all know why we're here.’ She began, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms ‘You are having a baby together. Javier, you have made some big mistakes in how you dealt with the news but I know that you want to make amends and you want a chance to be involved.’ She paused and he glanced up at her before looking at you with the saddest expression you’d ever seen ‘Hun I understand why you’re upset with him. When you first told me what he’d said I almost stormed down there to castrate him myself.’ That made Javier wince ‘But you need to do what’s best for her.’ She declared as she leaned forward and lifted one of the scans so you could see it more clearly ‘You’re going to be parents in less than four months. Don’t you want to give your baby the best possible start? With both her of parents in her life?’

‘Javi’s married to the job.’ You grumbled and he winced at the fact you were about him as if he wasn't there ‘I don’t want to do this alone. I am terrified, but I can’t be worrying about him letting me and the baby down.’

‘May I speak?’ He pipped up and both you and Connie looked at him, your expression expectant ‘I did fuck up. I freaked out. I came to Columbia to make a difference, I never expected to meet someone that I’d come to care for and I certainly never expected to end up having a baby with said person. I won’t lie. I was sure I didn’t want it. I genuinely thought it would be better off without me but when I saw you at the party, your small bump under that dress I realised how much I missed you and how much I was missing out on.’ He paused, scraping a hand over his tired face ‘When I saw these I felt something I’d never expected to feel. I felt a swell of happiness inside as I looked at my baby and when Connie told me it was a girl… Well.’ He paused again, looking down at the sonogram in his hand ‘I knew that I wanted to be a part of her life. I want it all.’

‘Javier-.’

‘I’m not expecting you to take me back.’ He interrupted and you sat there with your mouth hanging open ‘But I want to be there for you... For you both. If you’ll let me.’

‘I uh-.’ You sit there with a gobsmacked expression plastered over your face.

You’d not expected that.’

‘I want to be there when she comes, hold your hand as you push our baby girl into this world. I want to hold her when she cries, sing her to sleep, albeit badly, and I want to support you. Take some of the load. I didn’t realise how much I wanted this, wanted her until I was faced with the possibility of never being able to have it.’

You sit there in silence. Tears rolling down your cheeks as you and Javier gaze at each other, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as he leant forward and took your hand.

‘I swear to you that she will be my number one priority.’ He stated ‘I will move heaven and Earth for her.’

‘Okay.’ You replied, nodding lightly ‘But I need to know that when it comes down to the wire. She’s the one you choose.’

‘I will.’ He replied, smiling sweetly at you.

The rest of the evening went smoothly after that. You discussed arrangements. Agreed that he could come to your final scan before the baby was born and discussed living together initially afterwards. You’d ended up deciding on his apartment as it had a spare room and was larger although agreed it was a good idea to keep yours in case the arrangement didn’t work. You both hugged Connie goodnight. Thanked her for helping the two of your settle your differences and made your way down to your respective apartments but there was no longer an awkward air hanging over you both. Just quiet acceptance.

‘Thank you for agreeing to talk to me.’ He said sweetly, giving your hand a friendly squeeze as you came to a stop outside your front door.

‘Connie was right.’ You started, squeezing his back ‘We need to do what’s best for her.’

Smiling, he gave you a nod and a peck on the cheek ‘Good night Carino.’ He said softly, his eyes sparkling.

‘Why don’t you come in.’ You said, giving him a small smile ‘It’s still early and it would be good to talk a little more.’

‘Sure.’ He replied, following you in as you opened your door.

‘I haven’t got any alcohol I’m afraid.’ You snickered ‘Made me sad having it and not being able to drink it.’

‘That’s fine.’ He replied, smirking at you.

‘I probably have some coffee in the cupboard or I can make you a herbal tea.’

‘I’m fine.’ He replied as he let out a giggle ‘Don’t fuss.’

‘Right.’ You replied, lowering yourself onto the couch with one hand cradling your bump. ‘I look forward to being able to sit down on the couch again gracefully.’ You grumbled ‘Why they gave me an apartment with such a low one I will never know. Perhaps they knew I was going to get pregnant!.’

‘Perhaps.’ He replied as he sat down across from you and you turned your head to look at him.

‘So.’ You breathed.

‘So.’ He returned.

‘I have been trying to think of names.’ You started, leaning forward to grab the list you’d made and handed it to him.

‘These are all Spanish names?’ He questioned, giving you a bemused look.

‘Well, she’d going to have a little Mexican in her.’ You chuckled ‘Just because I hated you, didn't mean I wanted to deny her heritage.’

‘I deserved that.’ He replied with a wince ‘Well I have an aunt called Regina.’ He started, looking down the list’ She smells like beats and repeats herself all the time.

‘Veto on Regina.’

‘I like Elena and Luna.’ He continued ‘Oh and Rosa.’

‘Spooky.’ You said, catching his attention.

‘What is?’

‘Those are all my favourites.’ You replied with a smile and he beamed back at you.

You sat for a few minutes in comfortable silence, the two of you gazing at each other as you rubbed circles on your belly.

‘Whoah!.’ You said suddenly as you sat upright, eyes widening and you looked down at your belly.

‘What is it?’ He asked, his tone a little panicked.

‘She’s moving.’ You replied, grinning at him ‘Come feel. Shit, that’s weird.’

‘You sure?’ He asked, a little surprised at how ready you were to allow him back in.

‘Yes! Come on before she stops!’

He scooted over towards you, smiling when you grabbed his hand and placed it over your bump. For a few moments there was nothing and then… kick.

‘Whoah!’

‘Freaky right?’ You giggled.

‘Very!’

‘Imagine what it’s like for me. She’s doing it from inside.’ You chuckled and he grinned at you ‘She’s gotta be dancing the tango in there. Jesus!’

‘Hey, little one.’ Said Javi as he lowered his face towards your swollen belly ‘Settle down now. Mummy’s very happy to feel you moving but no need to overdo it.’

You chucked as you watched him talk to her, feeling her settle down inside of you and you rolled your eyes as he looked up at you.

‘Of course, she listened to you.’ You grumbled and Javier just shrugged.

You gazed at each other again, feeling the air between you crackle as he shifted himself so that he was more upright but no further from you. You saw his eyes drop to your lips and your own followed suit, tongue darting out to wet it before letting out a shaky breath in anticipation. As he pressed his lips to yours it was unhurried like it had been in the past. It was soft yet passionate and you felt yourself melting into it but soon it became heated, hands groping and tugging as you both desperately tried to deepen it.

‘I missed you.’ He whispered against your lips before his own started planting kisses down your neck.

‘Fuck.’ You moaned, feeling his actions going straight to your core but then your brain kicked in ‘Javi, Javi… Stop.’

‘What’s wrong?’ He asked as he pulled away, brows furrowed in concern.

‘As much as I’d love to revisit that.’ You started as you placed your hand on his chest ‘We need to take this slow. I can’t just go jumping back into bed with you. I need time to trust you again but if you’re serious about this then I need some proof.’

‘I want this. I want us.’ He urged, kissing you again with fervour.

‘And that's wonderful.’ You replied, pecking his lips ‘But I need a little time to process. Is that okay?’

‘Of course.’ He replied, flashing you a warm smile ‘We’ll take this as slow as you like.’

‘Why don’t we start with you staying over. We can talk a bit more, get to know each other again and then you can make me breakfast in the morning.’ You suggested, with a wink.

‘I think that can be arranged.’ He replied, pressing a tender kiss on your lips.

~

Chapter 2

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Cup

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: a monogrammed mug might be the thing that exposes your relationship with Peter to the Avengers when there’s a strict “no dating” rule being enforced

Warnings: I’m sorry if your first, middle, or last name begins with a “p”. Also this gif is a total spoiler with no context for this story

Masterlist

There was a rule in the Avengers tower: Avengers were absolutely not allowed to date each other. It was a stupid but reasonable rule, considering Nat and Bruce’s relationship had caused fights, tears, and chaos until dating among Avengers was inevitably banned, exactly three years before you and Peter joined the team.

Peter had been an Avenger for eight months before you came along. In that time, he'd become good friends with the other Avengers, or at least that’s what he told Ned. Peter was regarded as more of a son among the Avengers, never really seen as an equal. Before you, Peter was teased daily for his intelligence and bad habit of spewing out scientific facts no body asked for. Whenever he started going off on the theory of momentum or how a star was formed, a collective groan could be heard from Earths mightiest heroes. He would laugh it off and stop telling his fact, but it stung a little more each time it happened. But keep in mind, that was before you. 

You took a breath and entered the elevator. You smoothed your shirt with your hands and folded your lips into your mouth. You were surprisingly nervous, expecting the other Avengers to look down on you for being younger. Just as the elevator doors were about to close, you heard a voice call out.

"Hold the door please." The voice said. They sounded frantic so you quickly stuck your hand in the door so it wouldn't close. To your surprise, a dark haired boy around your age got onto the elevator with you. He was slightly out of breath from running and his curls were going in every direction. You could feel your face heat up and smiled shyly at him. He smiled back.

"Thanks for holding the door." He said once the elevator started going up.

"No problem." You answered. You already had butterflies in your tummy from your new job, and the adorable guy riding in the elevator with you didn't help.

"How come I've never seen you before?" He asked. You were pleasantly surprised that he had kept the conversation going.

"Today's my first day. I'm the newest Avenger.” You explained and he nodded.

"Well it's nice to meet you, newest Avenger." The boy said, extending his hand for you to shake. You prayed your palms weren't sweaty and firmly shook his hand.

"Thanks. And it's Y/n.” You told him. He smiled upon hearing your name as he realized it’s was his new favorite name.

“I’m Peter.” Peter told you. “I’m really glad to see you joining the Avengers. You have no idea how desperately we need more girls on the team. Last week, Nat wasn’t here and Bucky and Sam got tied in a knot. No one could pull them apart until she got back.” Peter blew out a breath as he remembered the incident. “Plus, it’s nice to have someone my age.” He added shyly.

From then on, you loved Peter.

“I’m actually really glad to see you too. I thought all the Avengers were gonna be older than me.” You said with relief. “I’m glad I got to talk to you, Peter. It's nice to have a friend on my first day." You said as you walked out of the elevator together.

"Yeah. Friends." Peter smiled widely.

You did not stay friends long.

The day you joined the team, the Avengers were getting ready to go on a mission involving a creature who liked to hop between earths and cause chaos. You sat quietly in the corner of the quintet and watched everyone interact. You didn’t add anything to the conversation, but laughed and smiled where necessary. You felt pretty invisible but you were okay with that for the time being. It was your first day and you didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. You were perfectly content with staying silent until Peter started going on about a multiverse.

“I can’t believe there’s actually a multiverse. Ive always read about them, but I never imagined it being real. This means there’s a universe out there where I’m stronger than Captain America.” Peter said excitedly.

“Doubtful.” Steve cut in.

“I mean, can you guys believe this? This creature can just hop to different universes as it pleases.” Peter went on. “I thought that was just theoretical. I mean, that completely changes how we understand the initial singularity. We’re talking about an eternal inflation system. And how does that even work-“

“Peter, you’re doing it again.” Sam sighed.

“Sorry.” Peter shrunk down in his seat, a look of hurt appearing on his face when he noticed the annoyed look on the Avengers faces. You noticed the look too and frowned.

“He does this a lot. You’ll learn to tune it out.” Bucky said to you.

“It’s just really cool. We’re talking about an eternal inflation system. And how does that even work-“ Peter said sheepishly before Sam cut him off.

“Peter! I’m sorry, he’s-“ Sam began the explain.

“Wait.” You cut him off and looked at Peter. “Let him finish.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“What?” Peter asked in confusion, as no one had ever taken interest in him before.

“I want to hear the rest.” You said seriously. “What were you saying Peter?”

“I was just wondering how the multiverse worked with all the quantum realms. This has got to affect the space-time continuum in some way. That’s all.”

“That’s really cool, Peter. You’re really smart.” You said sincerely. You didn’t like the way his intelligence was treated as a nuisance with the other Avengers. You definitely isn’t like the sad look that crossed his face when they told him to stop. You just wanted to make him feel good.

“Thank you.” Peter said, in a little disbelief that you actually cared.

“No problem, Peter.” You smiled.

You ignored the shocked looks from the rest of the Avengers, or maybe you just didn’t see them. You and Peter looked at each other from across the jet and you winked at him.

You found Peter the next day sparing with a hologram. The hologram was much larger than Peter, but Peter was clearly winning the fight. You noticed Peters eyes darting around as he looked like he was figuring something out in his head. You didn’t want to interrupt, but you were too curious not to ask.

“What are you doing, Peter?” You asked him.

“I’m figuring out the momentum of his swings so I can match his force and overpower him even though he’s bigger than me. My mask usually does it but I’m practicing doing it myself incase my mask breaks during a battle.” Peter explained as he continued fighting.

“So you’re doing all that math in your head?” You asked in admiration.

“Yeah. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.” Peter shrugged, watching you carefully to see if you were actually interested or just teasing him. “But sometimes I forget to carry the one.”

“And all the Avengers just watch you do this and see it as normal? No one says “wow Peter, that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen” or anything?” You wondered.

“Uh, no. Not really.” Peter said.

“Well, Peter.” You laughed. “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

From then on, Peter loved you.

Three weeks later, Peter kissed you in the training room when no one else was around. He tasted like Gatorade and mint and heaven.

Six months later, you were in love. You were spending every waking moment together, and by default, loving every waking moment together. There was never a time when he was more than 10 feet away, and that was how you liked it. From sparring to movie dates in Mr. Starks home theater to making burnt cookies for the rest of the Avengers, you were inseparable. The only problem was, you couldn't tell anyone that they were together.

The rule still stood and you worried if anyone found out, you’d be kicked off the team. This lead to secret hand holding under the table and quick kisses when no one was looking. It was an okay system, but it wasn’t great. Peter was dying to tell the other Avengers that he was dating you. All the men on the team had taken quite a liking to you. They were never disrespectful, but your beauty and abilities often came up when you weren’t around and the telling smiles that crossed their faces made Peter a little angry. He knew it wasn't their fault, but he couldn’t shake the jealousy. You were stunning and they had no idea you were taken. If the guys knew you were his girlfriend, they'd back off immediately. But, no one was allowed to know.

One hectic morning, your alarm didn't wake you up. You’d never actually set your alarm, because you’d fallen asleep in Peters bed while watching a movie together. You were still at his apartment at 7:13 when you had to be at the tower at 7:30 for a meeting. Peter was nowhere to be found, and you assumed he let you sleep because he thought your alarm was set. You rushed to get ready, grabbing whatever shirt you could find, which happened to be one of Peters button downs, and threw on some pants. Rushing into the kitchen, you found Peter with two cups of coffee already made and a small smile on his face. You sighed in relief that he was all ready to go and gave him a kiss, longer than you were accustomed too since no one was around. You grabbed your cup of coffee and headed out.

Once in the tower, you sat at the conference table and took a deep breath. You had gotten to the meeting on time, walking in a few minutes after each other so it wouldn't be suspicious. You took a big sip of your coffee when something caught your eye. Specifically, the giant red "P” on the front on the cup.

Luckily, Peter was sitting directly across from you. You snapped your fingers harshly to get his attention. Peter looked up at you and smiled, his smile quickly fading when he saw your angry expression.

"What's wrong?" He asked. You said nothing, instead, just held up your cup. Peter grimaced when he realized his mistake.

“Oops. Just trade cups with me. It's fine." He assured you. You quickly switched cups and you relaxed as the other Avengers walked in.

"Did you hear from Bruce? I think he said he was gonna be late.” Peter asked you to look like you were having a normal, platonic, conversation.

"I don’t think so. I’ll check if he texted- Oh God you freaking idiot." You deadpanned the last part as you stared at your cup.

"What? What's wrong now?" Peter asked, confused by your seemingly uncalled for insult. You again said nothing, but just held up your cup. This time, there was an even bigger, purple "P” on the front. Peter bit his lip.

"Oops." He repeated. “Nice shirt, by the way.” He smirked. You looked down and realized you were wearing his shirt in addition to drinking from his cup. Your day could not get any worse.

"Oops? Is that all you have to say?" You asked in a harsh whisper.

“Y/n, its fine. No ones gonna notice." Peter said calmly.

"You think they won't notice the giant purple "P” on my cup? My name is Y/n L/n. There's no "P” in that!" You exclaimed. You continuously checked to see if anyone was listening as you scolded Peter.

"You can say the “P” is for your middle name." Peter suggested as he took a sip of his coffee from your matching cups.

"My middle name is Y/m/n.” You whined, knowing his plan wouldn’t work.

"Really? That's so pretty." Peter said with delighted surprise.

"That's not the point, Peter.” You groaned. “The point is, if I'm caught drinking from a cup that has an initial other than my own, namely your initial, people are gonna get suspicious."

“Or, consider this. Close your eyes, manifest with me.” Peter said as he shut his eyes. “No one will care."

"I'm already wearing your shirt, which means I smell like your cologne. Now, I have a cup with your initial on it. Someone is gonna put two and two together." You panicked.

"Or, consider this, really manifest with me this time. I didn’t see you manifest before, no one will care." He said again with an innocent smile.

"Why couldn't you given me any other cup? And why do you own so many monogrammed cups?" You inquired.

"You're blowing this out of proportion. It's no big deal. No one will even notice." Peter repeated. You wondered how he was so calm when your jobs were at stake.

"Hey, Y/n. What's that “P” stand for on your cup?" Tony asked as soon as he entered the room. You shot Peter a look that made him shrink into his seat.

"Who cares? No one will notice! It’s just a cup! No need to get jazzed up about it.” You said sarcastically, catching the attention of the other Avengers.

"Oh, I'm the one who's jazzed? You're freaking out over a cup." Peter retorted, in full volume now.

"Speaking of the cup, why is there a “P” on it?" Sam asked, pointing the cup out so everyone could see it. You couldn’t help the loud groan that escaped your mouth.

"It stands for panda.” Peter blurted. “Y/n loves pandas.” You looked at Peter with a lethal glare.

"Why wouldn't you just buy a cup with a panda on it?” Bucky chimed in. You shrugged and looked at Peter.

"That's a great question, James. Peter, why don't you answer?" You said with a fake smile.

"Because Y/n likes to be unique." Peter explained meekly.

"Does the "P” on your cup also stand for panda?” Sam asked Peter. Peter looked down at his cup and sighed.

"It sure does". He said weakly.

"Interesting. I would've guessed the "P” stood for “Peter” or “Parker”, since you two are clearly dating. But I guess I was wrong." Sam shrugged casually as you and Peter froze.

"You know that we're dating?" You asked in shock.

"The whole team knows.” Steve cut in as if it were obvious. You looked around the room and everyone just shrugged as of to confirm Steve’s words.

"But what about the rule?" Peter asked, dumbfounded.

"That rule hasn't been effective for months. I stopped enforcing it last January.” Tony laughed as he took his seat at the head of the table.

"What? How come no one told us?" You asked.

"Because if you knew, there'd be non-stop PDA and none of us wanted that." Nat answered.

“So you let us think we were keeping it a secret for six months?” Peter demanded.

“Secret? Did you think none of us noticed that Peter became left handed six months ago so he could hold your hand with his right one under the table?” Tony pointed out.

“We all knew, we just didn’t care. We’re happy for you guys.” Steve smiled again you.

“Oh.” You said. “Thanks guys.”

“You’re welcome.” Tony answered. “Just keep the PDA to a minimum. I don’t want any spider babies around running here.”

Seven years later, you and Peter were married just a few miles from the Avengers tower.

After the ceremony, you sat in the kitchen while Peter finished bringing in the wedding gifts.

“I have one last gift for you, Mrs. Parker.” Peter came from behind you and kissed your cheek, setting a small gift box down on the table in front of you. You opened it up, finding a mug with a script “P” on the front. You laughed at the sight, remembering the incident in the conference room all those years ago.

“There. Now you do have a “P” initial. You can use this with no questions asked.” Peter said with pride.

“I love it.” You told him honestly. You smiled and made some coffee, just so you could use your new cup.

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona​ @foreverxholland​ @writing-for-hours-on-end​ @lavender-writer​ @captainmandeestudent17​ @whatareyouhidingpeter​ @takenbyheartstrings​ @ultrunning​ @imyourliquor-youremypoison​ @theolwebshooter​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @guksmyfav​ @waiting-to-be-myself​ @letsloveimagines​  @peterparkoure​ @a-villain-vying-for-attention​ @justcallmehitgirl​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @jackiehollanderr​ @tiny-friggin-human​ @celestial-skylines​ @loveat2am​ @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @delicately-important-trash​ @mjspxrker @spideygirl2003​ @the-crazy-fanfictionist​ @kii-mii​ @maryjanee23​ @spacebitch2​ @vgiselle​ @geeksareunique​

[leapyearkisses]

Consequences - (m, m/m preslash) Oneshot

Reupload. My brief attempt at writing an action thriller. Imagine if it were possible to buy a pill to make you sick. Then imagine you tried to use that pill to avoid the monumental consequences of your greed-motivated actions.

Probably a bit nsfw, mess, crimes against the environment, bastard men, capitalism, tw alcoholism

---

Murashiki Aritomo lifted the small white pill and examined it with a critical eye.  It looked no different than an aspirin or a breath mint, so innocuous as to be almost unbelievable.  But he was running out of options.  There wasn’t a lot of time to arrange anything different, and he wasn’t sure now whether there was any other course of action that wouldn’t land him in prison.  “This pill will make me sick?”

“It will, I can promise you that.”  The drug’s purveyor, Paul Gascoigne, had been Murashiki’s classmate in undergrad, although while Murashiki had gone into developmental chemistry, Gascoigne had pursued medicine.  Or at least pharmacology.  He looked the part now, dressed in a bespoke black suit and a white lab coat for effect, although his bright ginger hair brought a touch of life to the somber outfit.  “Flu symptoms for a week, starting about six hours after taking it.”  He shook the unlabeled bottle in his hand.  “If you double up, the symptoms get worse and last longer.  I’ll even give you a discount.”

Murashiki eyed the bottle, then shook his head.  “No, I only need to be unavailable for the length of the Summit.”

Gascoigne smiled in a manner befitting a fox.  “Yes, I’d heard on the DL there was some nasty business with the LiveBetter plastics.  Are you seeking new employment opportunities?”

Murashiki produced his wallet.  “I’ll give you an extra €50 to stop asking me questions.”

“Deal.” Gascoigne slipped the bottle back into an inner pocket and got up from where he’d been leaning against the wall.  He held out a hand for the money and didn’t make a secret of counting it before secreting that away as well.  “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said.  “While I have your attention, may I just say that my doors are always open if you’d like to seek out other opportunities as well.”

“I’m married,” snapped Murashiki, automatically running his thumb over the place where his wedding band used to be.

“Ah, young love,” Gascoigne said, mocking.  “You know, she’s a decade gone to Monaco, or Dubai, or wherever it is these days where they pay for high-class whor-”

“Get out.”

Gascoigne spread his hands, conciliatory.  “On my way.”  He turned on his heel and left the office, letting the glass-fronted door swing shut behind him.  Murashiki glared at his retreating back until it was gone, then glared at the door itself.  White frosted writing identified his sins.

Aritomo Murashiki, Ph.D.  Senior Project Lead, LiveBetter Development Group

He’d shredded all of his files already, but he checked the desk once more to be sure.  Everything he wanted to keep he’d put into a slim silver suitcase.  He wouldn’t be coming back here, God willing. The pill sat on top of his desk.  He swallowed it with a mouthful of whiskey from the decanter underneath.  With luck, he could make his excuses the next morning to the relevant people and be on his way out of the country by evening.

---

Murashiki reached his room at the Holiday Inn just past midnight.  He put his suitcase by the door and stripped to his shirtsleeves and boxer-briefs before going into the bathroom to splash some water on his face.  He’d always been one to keep up appearances for the investors, but after all the late night as alcohol he was starting to look wan.  He rubbed his eyes, pushing up his glasses.  He hadn’t expected that, at 37, his life would be self-destructing in such a public manner.  As soon as the environmental compliance reports were brought up in front of the EU, the company would throw him under the bus and that would be that.

Not that he didn’t deserve it.  He drew away from the mirror and back into the darkened bedroom.  He’d been present for almost every step of the process.  His initial warnings had fallen on deaf ears, and then... well, the money had been too good.

“Lead me not into temptation,” he mumbled, laying down on the bed closest to the exit.  Maybe he should have stuck with the whole religion thing after Satine had left, but he hadn’t been too fond of faith in the months after.  He touched his ring finger again.  He knew he was a fool.  Gascoigne was right, if insufferable.  He closed his eyes.  Unbidden, the man’s face came to him.  Always looking sly and fit, he’d cut a dashing figure in college, too.  They’d made out once, twice... Murashiki had already been married then, but a little bit of beer and bisexual guilt had motivated a slip here and there.  He’d never felt like he was “settling” for Satine - in fact, he’d loved her quite dearly - but he’d always been afraid of missing out.

He set an alarm for 5 AM.  That would give him enough time to contact the VP.  Hopefully by then the pill would have kicked in so it didn’t seem like he was shirking.  Of course, everyone would know why he wasn’t there soon enough, but he’d have a head start.  He felt fine at the moment, if stressed.  It had been four hours.

For the price he’d paid, Gascoigne had better not have ripped him off.

------

Five o’clock came too quickly.  Murasaki groped for his phone on the bedside table, slapping at it uncoordinatedly to turn off the alarm.  The room was still pitch black.  He groaned.

The doctor hadn’t been playing him; he felt awful.  His head was heavy and his limbs ached dully - perhaps he was already running a fever?  His mouth was dry, and when he tried to moisten it he realized why: he couldn’t breathe through his nose at all.  Rubbing it produced no relief, just an irritating shift of congestion in his sinus that led to sharp gasp and a rushed sneeze.

“Hahkyusht!”  He caught it against his wrist, and the next two in his palms.  “Hhkyuschtt!  Hgkktschkt!”  Head throbbing, he wiped saliva and snot on the sheets and got out of bed.  He’d seen a tissue box on the toilet tank last night and was in great need of it.

The fluorescent overhead light set him cursing when he flicked it on.  It felt like high beams stabbing him in the face after a particularly intemperate night of drinking.  He shielded his eyes with one arm and grabbed a handful of tissues to crush against his nose.  He was going to sneeze again.  He could feel an itch clawing deep inside his left nostril.  He squinted against it, trying to take shallow breaths, but it didn’t help.  “Hahgktsciutsz!”

The tissues were a mess already, but he tried to blow his nose.  That lead to coughing, too, and he found himself leaning over the sink, trying to get his bearings.  “The fuck did you put in that pill?” he growled to himself.  Surely not a live virus?  The consequences would be staggering.  And not just because he felt himself a little dizzy and unsteady on his feet.  It would be easy to transport pills across borders, easy to disguise them as something harmless - they already looked it.  Influenza was already one of the most deadly of epidemics.  What if Gascoigne could take TB, rabies, ebola and weaponize it marketed as aspirin or loperamide??

In the mirror, his gray eyes were wide and Murasaki could see even without his glasses that he was sweating.  He shivered.  Right.  Things were getting out of hand.  He was just feverish and letting his tension take over.

He took the tissues back into the room with him and returned to the bed.  He just had to make a few calls and then get out.  Everything would be fine.  He could make flight arrangements in the taxi and then be on his way back to Japan faster than you could say “non-extradition country.”  

It was 5:12.  The VP picked up on the third ring.  “Dr. Murasaki?” she asked, sounding like she hadn’t had her coffee yet.  “What is it?”

“Good morning, ma’am.”  He didn’t have to force the coughing that followed.  “I realize it’s terrible timing...”

“You sound awful.”  

He coughed again in agreement.  “I feel awful.  I’m nih- not sure I’ll make it to the convention center.”  He pinched his nose, at least until he could feel the sneeze cresting.  Then he let it out, not too far from his phone’s microphone.   “Hahkgtschgt!”  Mess painted his lips and he struggled to breathe past it for a moment.

“Santé!” She was too polite to sound appalled, but she was quick to dismiss him.  “We’ll miss you at the luncheon and awards ceremony.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said, through more tissues.  “The team is just as deserving of recognition for this as I am.”

“Yes, of course.  I will pass on news of your absence to the event coordinators.”  In the end, it didn’t really matter to her whether the scientists behind the company’s products were there or not, just that the presentation was made on time and the right people (her) made the right headlines.  Someone would make sure the info made it to the European stage.  And that someone would not be Murasaki.  He didn’t envy whoever was left with the data.  He didn’t even know if anyone else who was going knew exactly what they meant.  But the audience would.

He was free, though, for now.  He thanked her and hung up, then let the phone fall from his hand to the pillows.  “Hah... haah-”  If he could leave off sneezing for twenty minutes, he would be golden.  His nostrils flared, and he fumbled for more tissues as the right started running, worsening the irritation to an unbearable degree.  “Hakgschtgnx!  Nktscgshx!”  His ears rang and he dropped to lay back on the bed.  He hadn’t felt this bad since back in college, junior finals week, when he’d stayed up for four days and then been bedridden for just as long.  His nose felt raw already.  Even his eye sockets hurt.  He lay his arm back over his face, enjoying how cool it felt on his forehead.

He would just close his eyes for a minute.  For one minute, he would try to will away the pain and heat.

------

“HEY!”

Murasaki startled awake to the sound of fists raining down against the door.  He tried to kick out at an assailant, caught the sheet, and struggled until he found himself on the floor.  Threadbare carpeting pressed into his cheek and he tried desperately to remember where he was.  Not the office.  Not his apartment in Montmartre.  He forced himself to sit up and had to lean against the bed to stay upright.

He was in a hotel, he finally remembered. He was staying here before he left the city.  Just a few phone calls to make- no, he’d called the VP.  The room was awash in the orange light of fading afternoon.  His stomach twisted.  That wasn’t right.

The pounding hadn’t stopped, but by the time Murasaki thought he might be able to address it, whoever was outside had forced their way in.  He expected a horde of angry journalists, armed with cameras and microphones like on TV, but it was only one man.  Gascoigne, he thought.  It took him a moment to place the man without his glasses, but that hair...

“What are you doing?!” Gascoigne practically shouted.  He shoved the door closed again and used Murasaki’s suitcase to keep it from swinging.  “You’re still in Paris?  There’s an uproar!  They were showing parts of the Summit live, you know.”  He grabbed Murasaki’s elbow and yanked him to his feet.  “I wasn’t sure whether Le Monde or Greenpeace would get you first, but it’s much worse than that.”  No lab coat today, Murasaki noted distractedly.  Jeans and a bomber jacket.  Did black-market doctors get weekends?

He tried to free his arm and failed.

“I can’t believe you’re still here,” Gascoigne was saying still.  He shook the smaller man.  “Idiot.  Did you hear what I said?  The Russian mafia put out a hit on you!  Hey!”  He grabbed Murasaki by the nape.  “They found out LiveBetter is behind the collapse of their fishing interests in the Black Sea.  This is all over the deep web.  Hey.”  He shook Murasaki again.  “What’s wrong with you??”

Murasaki pressed his hand against Gascoigne’s chest, tried to push away from him.  “You,” he said.  “You poisoned me, or s- somethih- Hahktsch! Haktschngx!”

“Christ.”  Gascoigne let him go.  

Murasaki lifted his hands.  “Hgkttschzx!  You... what is this?  I’m burning up.” He was shivering, too.  He felt sick and dizzy.  “I must have passed out.”

“Yeah, you look like shit,” said Gascoigne.  He shrugged at Murasaki’s glare.  “What?  Sometimes it hits harder for people if they haven’t taken it before.  S’not exactly FDA approved.”

Murasaki collected more tissues and blew his nose.  “How did you find me?”  This was not good.  He’d be stopped at the airport, probably.  The mafia had connections all over Europe.

“Your phone.”  Gascoigne had picked it up off the pillow.  “You have... sixty missed calls and messages.  Wow.”  He dropped the device unceremoniously behind the bed.  “We’re leaving that here.  Get dressed.”

“‘We’?” Murasaki tossed the tissues to the carpet and started trying to button his shirt.  His pants were where he’d left them, and he picked them up, leaning against the wall dizzily as he tried to get them on one leg and then the other.

Gascoigne moved the blinds aside and took stock of the street outside.  “Yes, ‘we.’  I didn’t come after you for my own health.  Get going.  Where are your shoes?”

The two of them, led by Gascoigne, left out the back stairwell.  Gascoigne had parked an unassuming tan Renault at the sidewalk and he pushed Murasaki into the passenger seat before taking the wheel and driving out of the courtyard.  After only minutes, the car blended seamlessly in with the local traffic.  “We’ll head to Germany for now.  I’m sure the mafia has people at Charles de Gaulle.   When we get a chance, maybe Brazil?”  He was driving admirably despite the pressure he’d put himself under.  Not drawing the attention of anyone.

It didn’t occur to Murasaki, with how terrible he was feeling, to ask why Gascoigne had actually come for him until they were close to the border.  “I mean, you didn’t have to get involved,” he said.  “No one would have connected our names.”  He was looking up at Gascoigne’s face from under his bangs.  The car window was nicely cold against his temple.

Gascoigne glanced over to him and rolled his eyes.  “You’re an idiot.”

There was a silence.  Murasaki coughed.  “Is that it??”

Gascoigne didn’t meet his gaze, focusing on the highway ahead.  “You didn’t think I was just hitting on you to piss you off, did you?”

Murasaki frowned, then looked away.  “Oh.”

“You don’t have to answer me,” Gascoigne said, voice carefully neutral.  “I’m doing this because I want to.”  He reached down and turned on the radio.  The point was clear: no discussion was to be had at this time.

Murasaki stared out at the passing countryside and tried to get a handle on the mix of emotions churning inside him.  Fear, gratitude, helplessness, lust... he couldn’t think through the fever and eventually gave in to a numbing haze.  With luck, he would live long enough to figure out what he wanted a day, a week, a month from now.

Gascoigne kept driving.

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: Ch 1

Because I couldn't help myself. This was inspired by a piece of fanart i saw. This is also on AO3

After the events of the last week it felt strange to just go back to school like she hadn’t gone up against Belos and everyone hadn't seen her rescue Eda and escape from the Emperor's coven and petrification. 

It was weird, to say the least, but then again, there was never a day in the Boiling Isles that wasn't weird in some form or fashion if she were honest, she'd gotten pretty used to rolling with the punches in the last month though if she did say so herself. 

This was a little different of course.

Gus and Willow had come by the very next day to check on them and get the rest of the story they’d missed after they’d gone to get Eda.

She could tell that her friends were disappointed that she hadn't come to them or even talked to them about it before throwing herself headlong into danger as she had been want to do as of late, but she had already dragged them into this mess with her once and she’d decided that was to many times, especially now that she had a better idea of what kind of real danger the Emperor posed.

She'd managed to pull one over on him and prove he wasn't invincible, but she also knew he was just messing with her, despite her giving it her all and pulling some rather dangerous stunts to boot.

She couldn’t decide if she was becoming more reckless or if she always had been and the Isles just really brought it out in her what with all the… well, dangerous stuff. 

Eh, unimportant right now.

They decided it was probably better for Eda and Lillith to lay low for a while and stay inside the house for now, not draw any attention to themselves, difficult as that was for Eda. Lilith would help keep her wrangled, and maybe King.

Though he was just as likely to egg her on as anything else.

Since they weren’t leaving the house Eda couldn’t take her to school on Owlbert, so it was just her and her trusty legs walking to school that morning. She was a little nervous at the prospect of facing… well, everyone.

Everyone had seen her and as the only human on the Isles she wasn’t exactly hard to miss on a regular day much less when being broadcast by crystal ball to everyone.  

Her fingers played with the strap of her bag nervously. 

She met up with Willow halfway and some of her fears were temporarily relieved as they walked the rest of the way, chatting animatedly. She almost completely forgot about her worries until the school came into view and she could see all the students moving about outside and on the front steps. 

Her grip on her bag tightened again and her shoulders bunched up around her ears. 

“You ok?” Willow seemed to quickly pick up on her tenseness. 

“Yeah…,” she started slowly, eyes darting around the field out front of the school, no one seemed to even be looking at her, anymore than usual that is, even as they walked right up to the school steps where Gus was waiting for them, waving. “I guess I just thought… I dunno, that after what happened more people would be… talking about me?” She wasn’t really sure what she had been expecting.

“Well, you had your cloak up the entire time and the Emperor did say the titan told him to free Eda, so you’d be included in that.” Gus shrugged. 

"Gus and I recognized you, but we're together all the time too," Willow added.

“Yeah, I guess…” She wouldn’t say she was disappointed by the lack of attention, it was just so, anticlimactic she supposed. Luz didn’t mind being in the spotlight, but she didn’t actively seek it either. 

The bell screamed its first warning toll and all the kids roaming around outside the school began making their way inside.

“See you guys later!” Luz waved as Gus and Willow headed off to their perspective classes, waving to her over their shoulders as they disappeared in the crowd of students.

Tapping a finger against her cheek she had to think for a moment to remember what track classes she had today. There wasn’t enough time in the day for her to take all nine tracks a day so it had to be split over the five weekdays. 

It was Monday, so she had beast keeping and potions. She grinned at the thought. She loved learning about all the tracks, but beast keeping was especially fun.

She never got to practice manticore taming or griffin riding back home after all!

She paused mid-step.

Home

The thought made her frown but she tried to shake off the heavy feeling that had settled over her, there was no point in moping about it right now. She did what she had to do, for the good of everyone… and it was her fault that they had been put in that situation to start with, it was only right that she fix it.

Eda was already looking into it but there were other things going on that needed her attention to, and that was fine! Luz knew what she was doing when she’d done it. 

She guessed these were just the consequences of her actions catching up to her that her mom had always been warning her about. Maybe now she’d start learning to look before she leaped.  

She had started back toward the steps only to be stopped again.

“Luz!?” 

She immediately recognized that voice as she turned around to come face to face with Amity as she jogged up to the steps, her abomination trailing behind her as it carried her books. She stopped a few feet from her. 

“Hey Amity! You're out of your cast!” Luz grinned at the sight of her friend finally out of bed and back at school.

“Huh? Oh, yea, a few days ago.” She seemed to fidget as she tucked a stray strand of mint colored hair behind her ear. “Forget about that though!” she seemed to focus again, looking at Luz with a frown, face set in a stern look. “What happened?!” she demanded.

Luz frowned, fingers twitching over the rough canvas strap of her bag, she didn’t need to ask what Amity was talking about, she could only mean the whole petrification, escape from the emperor’s coven thing that had been broadcast across all of the Boiling Isles, she’d no doubt seen it.

“Ah well, it’s kind of a long story…” she rubbed her arm and laughed nervously. Amity did not look at all impressed by that answer. “If you want to meet at the library after school I can explain it all,” she offered. She felt bad that out of all her friends Amity was the only one completely in the dark since she didn’t even know about Eda’s curse or had gone with them on the trip to the Emperor’s castle.

Amity didn’t look satisfied with the answer but just as she opened her mouth to speak the bell screamed again, it’s last call for students to get to class before they were tardy and if Luz knew anything at all about Amity, it was that she loved Azura and was never late.

“Alright, I’ll meet you there,” she agreed, though she still didn't look happy about it. 

Amity quickly hurried off to class with her abomination, leaving Luz standing there before she smacked herself in the forehead with her palm.

"I'm gonna be late!" She helped before taking off in the direction of beast keeping 101.

~ ~ ~

The day seemed to fly by after she actually made it to class. 

It was nice to have something else to occupy her mind other than impending doom in one form or another. 

Potions always took all her concentration, unless she wanted to accidentally turn a potion for curing mild rashes into a literal bomb.

...It had happened before...

It had only been a small explosion and her teacher had quickly put out the fire though.

Now that she thought about it, that would have been so much more useful last week.

She pondered the merits of magical bombs in convenient, throwable glassware as she walked quickly through the Bonesborough market toward the library.

She'd been a little slow cleaning up after her potions class and had ended up staying a little long. Amity would probably be waiting on her already, she was punctual to a fault.

She skipped up the library steps two at a time and quickly snuck by the librarian at the front counter when he wasn’t looking. 

After the time she had gotten kicked out with the Blight twins, she wasn’t sure she was exactly welcome in the library, so it was better to just not let the librarian see her really. 

She snuck quietly through the halls to the romance section. It was devoid of people as it typically was.

She scanned the shelves before smiling as her eyes settled on a book. ‘The Lone Witch and the Secret Room.’

She pulled the book out and shoved it back in, there was a loud click as the shelf slid away to reveal Amity’s secret room. 

Amity was already waiting inside for her, curled up in the corner on some cushions, a book splayed across her lap as she stepped in, letting the shelf slide back into place behind her.

“Hey” She held up a hand in greeting. “Sorry it took me a little longer than normal. I had to clean up after potions.” 

“It’s alright, Luz.” She closed her book and motioned to the other cushion several feet away. Luz dropped her bag and plopped onto the floor,crossing her legs as she looked up at the youngest Blight and smiled.

Gold eyes flitted away and cheeks took on a rosy hue. Luz wondered if Amity was hot, it wasn’t bad in here but some people ran warmer and colder than others. 

“So…,” Luz started, unsure. 

Amity seemed to jolt as her eyes were once again on the human and her expression morphing into one of serious expectancy. 

"What happened last week?" 

Straight to the point then. Luz nodded as she started with Eda's curse and the field trip to the Emperor's castle.

Amity's face seemed to shift through a myriad of emotions over the course of the story, especially when Luz talked about how Lilith had kidnapped her and tried to kill her.

The horror on her friend's face and those intense gold eyes focussed on her made Luz self conscious and she pulled her knees up to her chest but didn't stop her tale. She squeezed her legs as she got lost in thinking about it. 

Amity wasn't the only one experiencing a lot of emotions right now.

The fear as Eda sucame to her curse and later the rage she felt anytime someone so much as uttered Lilith's name or she saw one of those dumb posters made her whole body shake, and finally the helplessness and sorrow as she'd handed over the portal and then had to burn her world away in a flash of fire. All of it came back to her so easily, still fresh on her mind even as she tried not to think about it too hard. 

"So, you can't go home?" Amity finally asked quietly after a brief silence following Luz’s explanation of everything that had happened. 

She shook her head sadly, eyes downcast and quiet.

Amity hesitated a second before reaching over to set a hand on one of Luz's, resting on her knees and making her look up, brown meeting gold. 

"I'm sorry, Luz…" She squeezed gently.

The small touch and the look on her friend's face caused a comforting flash of heat in Luz's chest.

"Thanks… Eda's working on it so…" She shrugged. 

Eda who was also without magic, which Amity knew now.

“I’ve seen the owl lady do some pretty impressive things, I’m sure she’ll figure something out.”  Amity gave a final squeeze before pulling back, trying to will away the touch of pink on her cheeks, now wasn’t the time for it and she scolded herself for the automatic response.

“Yeah…” Luz nodded to herself, a small smile managing to pull at her lips, which made Amity smile in turn.

“I can’t believe how selfless you are sometimes… destroying the portal to save Eda…,” Amity said, fiddling with her hands now sitting folded in her lap.

“It was my fault she got caught in the first place, I had to fix my mistake…” Luz shrugged, a little flustered by praise she hardly deserved. “She didn’t leave me… I couldn’t leave her.” 

“Most people wouldn’t have done that, even if it was their fault,” the young witch insisted. 

“Maybe…” Luz shrugged again but couldn’t help the widening of her smile.

Amity glanced at the clock on the wall, her smile turned into a grimace, they had been here longer then she had planned. 

“I need to head home…” Amity stood and Luz followed suit as they headed out of the secret room, checking quickly to make sure no one was around to see them as they headed out.

“I have abominations and illusions tomorrow, so I guess I’ll see you in class.” Luz smiled as they stepped outside the library.  

“Of course…” Amity nodded but she seemed distracted as they paused at the top of the library steps. 

“Amity?” Luz called and again she was focussed on her, but the look on her face was one Luz had seen before, she was thinking.

She hesitated a second, looking around the empty area outside the library before closing the two feet of distance between them.

Luz could only blink as Amity's arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace, chin tucked into her neck, mint green filling the latina's vision. 

"I'm so glad you're okay."

It was said so quietly she almost missed it, hardly a whisper, breathed against her neck. 

Warmth immediately flooded her chest at the quiet murmur. 

Before Luz could reach up to return the embrace Amity was already pulling away.

“See you tomorrow, Luz.” she called as she hurried down the library steps, never looking back and leaving Luz standing there, stunned, in her wake. 

“Bye…” she held up a hand in farewell at the retreating witch’s back.

Why was her face so warm?

Shaking it off, Luz adjusted her bag as she hurried back to the owl house before Eda could wonder where she was.

The heat in her face faded quickly but the warmth in her chest lingered all night. 

~ 

The minute Amity set her things down on her desk she caught sight of the Emperor’s coven poster, with Lilith Clawthorne staring back at her with a smug smile. 

With a frown Amity ripped the poster from the wall and stuffed it into the trash can next to her desk.   

[mariecuttlefish]

Stay Warm/Stay Here [3k words, OCxOC fluff]

A recently-finished writing commission for @kibbulation​! Vague spoilers for their series, Mint Condition [AO3 link], as this takes place around a decade after Piperidine and Lone Pair.

External links: [Google Docs], [AO3]

Warnings: None. Appropriate for all ages.

Description: After the house's heating breaks during a cold winter day, Hatchet is struggling to stay warm. Pascal is more than happy to help solve the problem.

—–

Tick.

Tack.

Tick.

Tack.

Hatchet stared up at the ceiling. The book she had just put down laid flat on her chest, nestled into the folds of the blanket pile she'd buried herself in. It was a good read, and she still had a bit to go before it was done, but after dedicating the past few hours to it her eyes had started to strain. Now she was back to being just as bored as hours prior, struggling to think of and not terribly interested in doing anything better than laying there and trying to stay warm. With a grumble, she pulled the heaviest blanket further over her and nuzzled into the pillow propped against the arm of the couch.

The house's heating had given out early that morning. It was an outage that wouldn't be fixed until tomorrow, no doubt due to the number of other homes facing the same problem in the dead of a bitter winter, and as such the building had been unbearably cold since just before breakfast. Nattie, thankfully, wasn't present to suffer through the freeze - she'd been at a friend's house for a sleepover and had gotten permission to stay there an extra day - but while Hatchet was better equipped to handle the chill than a teenager, that didn't make it any less miserable to endure. Most of her afternoon had been spent there on the couch, trying to pass the time as well as she could while keeping movement to a minimum. Having by now grown tired of both random novels and rerun episodes of her favorite detective series, she found her options to be quickly depleting.

Tick.

Tack.

Tick.

Pascal sat at a small table across the room, tinkering away with an old clock they had been asked to repair. Normally all their mechanic work was kept to its own space in the house's spare room, but some time ago Hatchet had helped them clear a corner of the living room as a place for smaller jobs so that they could spend their time around others instead of being holed up all day. The space had seen regular use ever since, and the quiet shuffles and clicks of them fiddling with whatever device landed in their hands on a given day was something familiar to Hatchet by now. It was a comfort of sorts, even if she hesitated to admit it; Pascal worked quietly enough to be unobtrusive, and the noise provided a consistent reminder of comfort, that one of the people Hatchet cared most about was right by her side and happily so.

Hatchet turned her head to look over at Pascal, watching their back as they worked with silent dedication. She wondered how it was possible for them to stay so focused with only a light sweater and shawl to keep them warm. After only a brief venture into the cold to check the mail and put out garbage it had been a relief for Hatchet to come back inside and gather up every blanket she could possibly stand to lay under, but Pascal could withstand the cold that made her shiver any time she was forced to reach out of her cloth cocoon to grab something. Maybe, Hatchet thought, that was just an inherent benefit of being as tall and bulky as they were.

She wanted to enjoy some of that natural warmth too.

Tack.

Tick.

Tack.

"Pascal," Hatchet said, trying not to sound grumpy despite her temperature-fueled frustration. Pascal looked up from their table and turned to face her, remembering to stretch now that they were pulled away from their work.

What's up? they signed. Do you need me to get anything for you? 

Normally Hatchet tried to sign back to them when they were the only two in a conversation, or at least to sign along with her speech - it helped to keep her knowledge of the language from slipping - but it took minimal thinking to know that pulling her arms out from under the covers was not worth the effort it would take. "These blankets still aren't keeping me warm enough," she said plainly. "You look warmer than me. Come over here."

A tiny part of her brain kicked itself for being so blunt about it. Even after something like a decade of living together and months of being "a couple", whatever that meant to her, Hatchet still had difficulty when it came to outwardly expressing affection. Pascal, to their credit, seemed to understand the invitation perfectly well despite this; their expression lit up as soon as the words were out of Hatchet's mouth and, without hesitation, they set their repair tools down and stood to come join her on the couch.

The two danced the brief and awkward dance of trying to let Pascal get comfortable without completely sacrificing the coziness Hatchet had already attained. It took a few moments of shuffling about and settling in before they managed to find a satisfying arrangement, Hatchet curled up in Pascal's lap with the blankets wrapped around both of them while Pascal rested their head on the couch's back. Just as expected, the extra body heat was infinitely more pleasant than the lukewarm couch cushions. Hatchet couldn't help but try to get closer, wrapping her arms around Pascal as though she was worried about being pulled away.

Pascal was, unsurprisingly, delighted by this; glancing up, Hatchet saw a broad smile draw across their face as they draped their arms around her. For the most part Hatchet's friends had always been much better with physical affection than she was, but Pascal above all had always loved any opportunity to be cuddly with her - even long before the two of them started dating, which had made it that much more difficult for her to tell how her roommate felt about her. Looking back, she couldn't help but wonder how much of the closeness Pascal had displayed over the time since their first meeting was just in their nature and how much of it was spurred by that crush they had apparently been harboring for years. Whatever the answer, it did mean Hatchet could simply say the word and be near-instantly surrounded by warmth and affection, so she wasn't exactly going to complain about it.

She did sometimes wish, though, that she could be better at reciprocating that affection. Silly as it was to think that there was a way to be better at something like cuddling when all it involved was laying still with another person, Hatchet was still new to the idea of being in a romantic relationship and couldn't help but worry about whether she was doing things the right way. Pascal never seemed put off by the difficulty she had with initiating things and always respected when she wasn't quite in the mood for closeness, but would that be fine forever? Would things start to sour if the "honeymoon phase" ended and they realized she was still returning the love they gave more than she was offering her own?

No, she thought, all it took was one look at the way Pascal smiled every time she looked at them to know that they would never hold that against her. Despite how different her personality seemed from nearly everyone around her, there was no denying the patient, understanding love in her partner's eyes every time their gazes met. She shifted a bit in their arms to get more comfortable and they gently rubbed her shoulder in turn, instantly erasing the fears they likely had no clue she was even thinking of.

Laying still with another person, just enjoying their closeness... maybe that was exactly it. If Pascal's favorite way to show their fondness was through giving physical affection, maybe Hatchet's was simply allowing herself to receive it. After all, a decade ago the mere thought of being this close to someone would have repelled her, would have made her bristle and growl at them to back off, and even after years of being surrounded by good friends and plenty of therapy to overcome her social aversion it still wasn't like she would let just anyone into her personal space, even among friends. Maybe the language her love spoke didn't have to look like everyone else's to still hold meaning and intimacy. Maybe Pascal already understood it innately, the same way they seemed to understand everything else about her so much more easily than any other could.

"...Hey," Hatchet said quietly, not so much breaking the comfortable silence between them as adding sound to it. There wasn't much Pascal could do to reply with both of their hands preoccupied holding her, but they turned their eyes down to meet hers, the comfort and love clear in the softness of their expression. Hatchet couldn't help but give a lopsided smile at the sight; there was something she wanted to say, but for a moment all she could focus on was how clearly in love Pascal was and how overwhelming it was to know that all of that feeling was directed at her. "I, uh--"

The quiet chime of their house's doorbell interjected before the words could finish stumbling out of Hatchet's mouth. She and Pascal looked to the clock on the wall in sync, both wordlessly remembering the takeout they had ordered for dinner some forty minutes ago. The voice at the back of Hatchet's mind quietly whined. But I don't want them to get up, this is cozy...

Despite her internal protest Hatchet sat up, keeping the covers close around her as Pascal rose. She was feeling hungry, after all, and with how cold the inside of the house was she definitely didn't want to be the jerk who made the delivery driver stand outside and freeze on the front porch. Pascal picked up their notebook and pencil as well as the money that had been set aside as a tip, then disappeared around the corner to the front door. Hatchet, meanwhile, slowly moved to sit on one side of the couch, making room for Pascal to sit beside her and trying to position the blankets so that they wouldn't fall off of her as soon as she moved her arms.

Not long after she heard the front door click shut and Pascal returned, the alluring smell of fresh food following them into the living room. In one hand they gripped a large takeout bag, and in the other their notebook; as they walked in they tucked the latter under their arm to offer a polite wave, a gesture a younger Hatchet likely would have deemed sappy given they had only been out of the room for a few minutes. Now, however, the first word to her mind was a bemused cute.

The meal was short and pleasant - two omelets and a shared paella dish from a local restaurant that their place was just inside the delivery range for, all mercifully kept warm enough by the takeout containers that Hatchet actually had to wait a moment to let it cool down before eating. The pair huddled up on the couch together as they dined, Hatchet leaning into Pascal's side to stay anchored to whatever warmth she could get. The internal warmth brought by the fresh food was a welcome relief, but still didn't negate the chill all around her - a fact that Pascal evidently noticed, as they casually scooted closer on the couch when a sudden draft caused her to shiver.

By the time Hatchet finished her meal (as well as a small portion Pascal offered from their omelet, which Hatchet stubbornly insisted was not too spicy for her to handle (it was)), the cold was once again becoming unbearable. The sun was beginning to set, which she knew all too well meant that the temperature was about to become even more unpleasant. "Think I might just get into bed and try to sleep before it gets even colder," she said, rising from the couch with a slow stretch to discard the empty takeout trays. She didn't feel tired so much as she just felt bored, but at least being in bed would mean not having to move when it was time to sleep.

Pascal signed a quick good-night to her as she returned to the living room to gather her blanket hoard. The sudden look of disappointment on their face was plain to see, and Hatchet didn't need to guess at what was wrong. She hesitated for just a moment before gently nudging their shoulder. "Do you... wanna come up and cuddle some more?"

Pascal nodded enthusiastically at the offer. Hatchet breathed out a half-chuckle; even though she had made it clear by now that she didn't mind affection from them, Pascal still tried not to impose on her personal space without being sure it was okay with her first. It was sweet in a way that made  her smile as she bundled up her blankets and set them in their lap. "Alright, then hold onto these."

They tilted their head. Do you want me to carry them up for you? they signed.

Yeah, Hatchet returned, both of my arms are going to be occupied. Pascal started into a curious reply but was interrupted by Hatchet leaning down to slip her arms under their knees and shoulders and scooping them off of the couch. A bright blush tinged their face as they realized her intent to carry them up to the bedroom. "Let's go, then," Hatchet said, and she couldn't help but smirk at her partner's reaction.

* * * * * * *

A short moment later Hatchet stepped into her bedroom, nudging the door shut behind her with her foot. Through the window near the bed she could see out into the street below, where a thin layer of snow had gathered with more steadily drifting down from above. Just the sight of it made her feel even colder still.

"Let's hope it doesn't snow us in overnight," she muttered, only halfway joking. She set Pascal down in the bed gently and wasted no time in joining them, curling up by their side as Pascal fumbled through laying the blankets over the both of them again. They wrapped an arm around her to keep her close, their other hand coming up to idly brush through her tentacles. Hatchet fidgeted for a moment in an effort to get comfortable, only finally settling in once the lingering cold began to give way to relaxing heat once more.

Hatchet smiled and scooted in closer until she lay halfway on top of her partner, one arm lazily draped over their torso. This was perfect: the way her head fit just so into the crook of their neck; the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of their chest accompanied by the quiet sound of their breathing; the bracing comfort of the hand on her back and the fingers slowly stroking the back of her neck... 

She sighed contentedly, nuzzling in to try and be even closer to them. Pascal smiled at this, and almost on cue the hand that was resting on the back of Hatchet's neck moved to sit just behind her ear. Of course, she thought: ever since Pascal had discovered that sensitive spot it had become their favorite weak point to target... not that she had much of a problem with that. Slowly and gently Pascal rubbed the back of her ear and Hatchet felt a low purr rumble up from the back of her throat, both her ears drooping as her entire body relaxed.

"Comfy..." she mumbled, her voice muffled by Pascal's shoulder. Pascal's only response was to keep going, happy to let Hatchet be as cozy and serene as possible.

The words Hatchet had wanted to say earlier - what she had been trying to get across before dinner's arrival had interrupted her - suddenly sprung back to mind. Pascal hadn't commented on it or asked her to continue afterward as they usually would. Had it slipped their mind? Or had they simply gathered that she was hesitant and opted not to push her?

Whatever the reason, she didn't want to let those words go unsaid. Even if it was an effort for her to make the words come out, she knew without a doubt that she meant them. No amount of uncertainty or difficulty with expressing her emotions would convince her otherwise.

"Pascal..." Hatchet slowly lifted her head from where her face was buried against the skin of their neck, realizing as she met their gaze that her eyelids were already starting to droop as well. Pascal looked at her as though they were greeting someone who had just woken up, their soft, tender smile the only thing she wanted to look at in the moment.

She tried to fight back the tingle of embarrassment she felt in her cheeks as she pushed herself to speak. "I..." Another moment of hesitation, but Pascal didn't try to urge her on. They simply continued as they had been doing, rubbing and patting her back as if to say It's okay, take your time.

Hatchet breathed in and closed her eyes for a second, shaking off the nerves that seemed to build up with every second she let pass. Squeezing Pascal in a gentle but firm hug, she finally pressed onward: "I wanted to tell you that... I love you." 

Whatever Pascal might have expected her to say, those words had a clear impact. Their blush returned, lighter but fuller this time, and the corners of their eyes welled with tiny tears. They withdrew their hand from behind her ear to give their response, short and simple: I love you too. Hatchet didn't doubt that they would be saying much more if one of their arms wasn't trapped under her at the moment, and the smile that gradually drew across her lips reflected all the things she imagined they would be saying if they could.

As significant as the interaction felt, it was over almost in an instant. Just speaking the words shouldn't have been so hard, Hatchet thought, but then, it was the sort of feeling she hadn't ever had much reason to convey before. The words meant vastly different things depending on the context; the regular "I love you"s she exchanged with Nattie were unique from the once or twice she had actually managed to say it to her friends, and this was a world apart from either. From the way Pascal responded she was sure they understood that, but neither felt the need to commemorate it with any grand show of affection or any special ceremony. That was something she liked about the phrase - it could carry some of her deepest, most difficult emotions in just a few words without any need to make a big deal out of it or spend too long explaining herself.

With no further words needed, the two returned to their comfort, Hatchet once again burying her face against Pascal and closing her eyes. Despite the cold still nipping at the back of her head, she was quickly getting comfortable to the point of drowsiness. All she could hear beyond the dampened noise of wind outside was the sound of Pascal quietly sniffling; she gave them another light squeeze to help steady their emotions, and they returned the gesture by placing their hand in hers, loosely lacing their fingers together.

"You big sap," Hatchet murmured sleepily. The gentle rumble of Pascal's chest shaking in silent laughter was the last thing to register before Hatchet drifted to sleep, warm and secure and wrapped in gentle love.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Humane and necessary disciplinary measures

CW: humiliation, pet whump, human pet, punishment, canning, conditioning, negative self-talk, creepy whumper,

He couldn’t take it anymore.

His hands hurt where the thick leather cuffs cut in.

The tile floor gaps dug sharp into his knees, making him squirm against the table his torso had been strapped to.

Cold crept from the metal plate right through the thin white shirt he was put into on his first day here, making him shudder.

Everything else here, was white too.

The walls

The floors

The headache inducing light flooding every corner of this godforsaken facility.

Just white, white, white, white.

The only other color were the bruises that bloomed across his skin, when they hit him hard enough.

What they always did.

Coloring countless body’s in violent greens and blues.

The boy liked his bruises the best when they were purple and hoped his hands wouldn’t turn out this ugly shade of yellowish green as he felt the baton crash down again.

He hated that color.

Even more than white.

Hated it as much as he hated the bulky man that had dragged him out of the cooking class and into this training room.

“I didn’t … didn’t spill…. The fucking…. Milk.”

The boy’s breaths came ragged now, fogging the table with every shuddering exhale.

“Watch your mouth ‘626.”

The Baton came down again. A low whine escaped the boy, whose hands began to twitch uselessly in their restrains.

Please just let it stop already!

“And don’t you dare lie to me again.”

The Handler’s voice cut sharp like a pocket knife, twisting were the rest of the boys pride was tucked away. Hidden so deep within, he’d nearly forgotten it had ever been there.

I didn’t lie!

The sudden urge to scream clawed its way up his throat, bitten back behind teeth. Hard enough to make his jaw ache.

Stupid Handler Schneider hadn’t even been there as his teacher had shoved him so hard into the table the measuring cup had toppled over from the impact.

He didn’t spill the fucking milk, and he didn’t fucking lie!

He had never fucking lied once in his condemned worthless life.

He had never fucking sworn before, either, but fuck did it feel good!

“Didn’t… didn’t, fucking lie.”

His head crashed into the table. Nauseating pain throbbing through his skull in burning waves.

Fuck

Shit

It huuuuuurt!

Maybe the Handler had hit his head to hard but 626 felt a hysteric little giggle bubble up in his throat.

Uuuups.

Was Handler Schneider pissed off?!

Unsure what had possessed his trainee today, the Handler watched the kneeling boy quivering at his feet.

Greedily gulping some air into arching lungs, 626 thought he saw something like irritation show on the man’s narrow face, who’d began to rub at his temples.

“What the hell’s up with you today 626? You’ve never been this bad before.”

Bad, huh?!

Bloody lips split into an involuntary grin, the boy didn’t even attempt to hide. To engrossed by the taste of cooper and freedom filling his mouth.

He really was bad, wasn’t he?

His Babcia would have locked him in the old stuffy laundry closed, for such cussing by now.

Are you angry at me now Babcia?

Do you hate me?

Just like father did?

“…don’t care… anymore…”, blood spluttered on the table as he forced the words out, but he ignored it just like the throbbing burn behind his eyes and the numbness crawling in his still twitching fingers.

He was done.

So, so done, attempting to be a good boy.

A good son.

It’s impossible to change one's nature after all.

Handler Schneider’s voice road like thunder through the small tile room.

“What did you just say?!”

A rough hand wound its way into dark hair, pulling 626’s head up, to face him. A new wave of pain pulsed through the boy’s skull. Vision blurry, he tried to blink his tears away.

Man don’t cry in this family!

A breathy exhale, faintly smelling like mint and coffee, ghosted over his face.

“I asked. “, hissed Handler Schneider through gritted teeth, tightening his grip. “What the hell, you just said, 626?!”

“No- no matter…. What i… I do. I’ll always be… an abomination. So why, why bother ‘nd try… be good?!”

Heaving the words through burning lungs, he wondered why they hurt so much.

Even though I barely screamed at all today. Funny.

For a split second the man looked taken aback.

He had expected some more backtalk, the rebellious bullshit other trainees pulled in the first months or even some insults thrown his way, but this?

This self-deprecating shit?

This was gold!

Finally, Schneider had something to work with.

626’s facade of shy smiles and polite Yeses had cracked for the first time.

Pressing the boys head back down onto the metal table Schneider’s mouth twitched into an amused smile.

Shuddering 626 watched his blood pool on the table, completely transfixed.

Deep red against polished silver.

Had blood always been this beautiful?

Looking just like the cheery juice his brother had spilled on Babcia’s white tablecloth, which had gotten hip a slap on the fingers.

It had been an especially hot summer back then, making the boy wonder how long exactly it had been since he’d felt this warm.

How many days had passed since he signed the contract?

“You know.”, began his Handlers voice, startling the boy back to attention. He could hear the man move away from him and shudder as he remembered the wall behind him full of canes and paddles and everything else that hurt. So, so badly.

“You don’t have to worry your pree-etty little head about what you were before getting here. You’re Number 313626, now. A pet. And we have our methods to turn you into an obedient one. Isn’t that what you’re here for? To become a good boy?!”

“So…”, the man returned, leaning over the boys tied body as he placed a wooden crop gently next to his face. “How about I help you with that.”

Breath hitching in his throat 626 squirmed against the table, at his Handlers sudden shift in tone.

Sickeningly sweet words accompanied by gentle fingertips brushing over bloodied lips, rubbing red all over his burning mouth.

The boy froze.

Acutely aware of just how helpless he was in this moment.

Body bent over the icy table and feed fixed in place through a spreader bar, pushing his legs open.

“What do good pets say when offered such kindness?”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, breathing shakily against cold fingertips.

“Thank you.”

Schneider pressed harder on the boy’s busted lip, digging his fingers painfully into his jaw.

“Say it right.”

“Th- Thank you… Sir.”

Schneider’s mouth stretched into a wicked grin.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?!”

The part of 626 itching to rebel, to kick and scream at the world, got suddenly very quiet.

And a sharp voice, sounding suspiciously like his father, urged him on again, to try and be good.

Look, me being strict is for your own good. I know you could be a good son, if you just worked on yourself. Can’t you do that for your Tata?

“It wasn’t Sir.” Even to himself his voice sounded dead. Defeated.

Schneider huffed a laugh, ruffling the boy’s hair in a quick emotionless manner.

“You see this cane, here?”, he slammed it against the table, making 626 flinch violently.

“Na, na. Don’t be scared now. The cane isn’t half as bad as it looks. I’ll show you.”

And with that he slammed the cane over both butt cheeks, setting the soft skin there on fire.

Handler Schneider brought his food down on the spreader bar, securing it in place, and stopping the boy’s pathetic attempt to shuffle closer to the table.

“Not bad at all.”

He leaned over the boy again, one palm sliding down his neck, caressing his back, before two fingers hocked under the waist band of 626 shorts and pulled them down to his knees.

The boy jerked forward, fighting against the restraints around his wrists. Face burning, his voice trembled in fear and humiliation.

“What are you doing?!”

“Teaching you how to behave. You will count every strike and thank me for it. Understood?!”

626 shock violently, hands grabbing his restraints like a lifeline. Anything, anything to ground him.

“Tsk. I asked if you understood.”

The boy felt his Handler’s patience running thin as the cane bashed down with such force he felt it vibrating through his bones.

“Aaaah, un- understood sir. One sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“Pff, looks like you can be good, after all.”

Feeling his heart flutter at the praise, 626 breathed heavily through his nose.

He didn’t want to be praised by this asshole!

But god-damn, he drank it up like a man dying of thirst.

The next hit crashed over his thighs, and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling any longer, as he choked out: “Two. Thank you, Sir.”

“Three. Thank you, Sir.”

“Fo- four. Hnnn. Thank you, Sir.”

Whack!

He cried out again, startling himself with how loud he got.

“Five thank y- Aaaahaa! S-six, ‘hank you, Sir.”

Schneider watched the shivering mess at his feet with a pleased smile.

“You’re doing good 626. And good boys deserve a reward.”

The boy looked up hazily, ignoring his arm spasm as he tried to lift his sweaty head from the cold metal table.

Seeing the cane swing in the corner of his eye, 626 clenched his teeth. Bracing himself for the next blow.

As the cane came down significantly weaker this time, the boy blinked surprised up at his Handler.

“Seven. Thank you, Sir.”

Meaning the words, this time, and making Schneider chuckle.

“That’s my good boy.”

The next blow was even lighter and the one after that getting lighter, still.

This game continued until the blows turned gentle, barely a caress ghosting over ravaged skin.

Sweat and blood and droll, clung to the boy’s cheek, and Schneider watched him flinch in amusement as he dropped the cane with a loud clatter.

Pulling the boys shorts back up he started to free him from the restraints, wiping softly at his cheek.

“You were really good for me today, 626.”

“I was?, dazed disbelieving eyes looked up at his Handler.

Wasn’t all he did today got punished?

“Yes you were. And now tell me, what did the disciplining taught you?”

His thoughts dragged sluggish through his aching head, as he leaned against his Handlers chest.

“Good boys get, get less pain?” he tried, remembering the ever softening blows when he kept the count right.

The smile he earned from his Handler at that, send a pleased shiver up his spine.

“Exactly. Look what a good boy you are, learning so fast. And do you know why good boys get disciplined?”

“Because.”, he hurried to replay, eager to get it right. “Because, discipline is a necessary and humane event ensuring the continued obedience and well-being of a pet. “

A small part of 626 couldn’t help but to believe in those words.

[unholyhelbig]

Evergreen | Chapter Two

Summary: Beca Mitchell is a reporter that travels across the east coast. When scarlet fever begins to overtake much of the world, she’s forced to cover a story in one of the largest, newest, hospitals. She is soon captivated by the head nurse and then stolen by something more.[The Prequel to "What's Forever?"]

Read the series | Read Chapter One | Request prompts 

The scream sounded like a vase shattering against hardwood floor. It was so guttural and primal that Beca Mitchell believed with her entire body that it hadn’t sounded off in the first place. She was hazy from sleep, stiff from being propped up on the brick wall of her tiny room- a room she didn’t recognize at first. She hadn’t remembered falling asleep, but Emma was right, she had missed dinner.

She found herself yearning for a moment, for the floral chair that was always positioned in the corner of her room at home. It was draped with a fleece blanket and a sharp chill had settled over her room here. Her eyes wandered to the shadowed edge of the space now and she found nothing but a nasty crack dripping with rusted water.

That scream.

It made her jaw ache as it sounded again, over the hum of her own heartbeat. She had dozed off with her dip pen in her front pocket, the ink she had set up on the night table. It had leaked a spot that looked too much like Australia against the front of her pinstripe shirt. The button of her pants dug uncomfortably into her stomach as she scooted to the edge of the cot.

Evergreen Sanatorium, that’s where she had ended up. It had been so breathtakingly silent when they arrived like trained animals sat at the edges of their cages as Emma lead her down corridors. There wasn’t a sound to be had, but this one was so horrifying that it made the wallpaper curl.

She rushed to pull the faux gold watch from her front pocket. It popped open with a little click, the metal cooling against her sweaty palm. It almost burned with its starkness, but she licked her cracked lips and read the time. It was half-past two in the am.

Beca stood with much effort and slid the device back into her pocket her pants, ignoring the way the chain fell unevenly down the front of her slacks like uncombed hair. She crept silently to her door and flinched as it wailed like the source of the scream.

The hallway was still bathed in harsh neon lights, the fixtures humming above her like trapped flies. She glared at them for a moment, as if that would cease the buzz. It gave her nothing but spots to blink away as she peered down the corridor. It was empty, no one seemed to stir at the commotion.

She had pushed her boots off and left them by the cot, and thankfully so. Her socked feet made no noise as she tracked past the other closed doors that finally lead to the staircase. There was an echoed hacking bouncing off the walls, but that wasn’t the noise that disturbed her. It cut across the air once more, ending in a garbled crackling cough. It was coming from upstairs.

Beca gripped onto the railing as she walked up two full flights. Each floor was set up in the same way; unnaturally bright and deathly cold. Instead of living quarters, functioning rooms stretched to her left and her right. There was a reception desk at the top of the third floor. she squinted at the emptiness of the world.

There was an orderly, a dark-skinned man dressed in white linin slugging a mop across the tile. Beca let the breath caught in her chest pool in front of her as she pulled her shoulders back and walked towards him. The bucket that he used was muddy, and so was the water that he pushed around. There had been a stain the size of a notebook there before and he scrubbed toughly at the edges, dried and caked.

He glanced up, then down, and up again. He had pretty emerald eyes. “Ma’am?”

Beca suddenly didn’t know what to say. She was barefoot and quite disheveled and out of breath from her jog up to this level. And here was this orderly with a strong build and a kind smile with confused eyes. She hadn’t thought her way through anything. I’m the reporter from Chicago, what were those horrid screams?

“Ah, bathroom?”

He laughed dryly and leaned against the wooden stick of the mop like it was a crutch. His chin lifted towards a long hallway that jutted from the rest, and suddenly, if she did have to use the restroom, the prospect of venturing into the shadows deterred her. So did the scream that echoed once more, louder this time.

“Right, thank you-“ She frowned, holding her finger up as if to stop herself “What is that noise?”

“That would be Miss Mesa. She’s been a resident here longer than most. Likes to holler her head off until she gets somewhere with it. Usually, we can hold her off for a bit longer, but she’s unruly tonight.” He lifted his chiseled chin “You visiting family, Ma’am?”  

“No, I’m a reporter with Chicago Gazette.” The words felt like jelly in her mouth. She had never said them to a man before. It was easier with Emma, it was a part of her title and branded into her skin. But this was different somehow, this tore through her chest in a flutter of disbelief.

“In that case, apologies for the disturbance. Anything else I can help you with? Other than directions.”

She scoffed “What’s your name?”

“Ian Atkins Ma’am, the best damn orderly in this place. Just don’t’ say that to any of the other ones or they’ll try to prove me wrong, that will get them to work a hell of a lot harder.”

Beca decided that she liked Ian. He had bags under his eyes, the deep green pools reflecting the awful checkered pattern of the floor. But he worked through it and she found that admirable enough. She smiled and relished the lemon cleaner that burned her lungs.

“I'm Beca,” She offered, narrowing her eyes “This Miss Mesa, how long exactly has she been here?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and leaned into the stick of the mop a little more. “Well, that depends, I’ve been here for a few months now and that rooms always been occupied by her shouting. She’s a bit of a legend around here, suppose.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, you ain’t hear this from me, but some of the lower staff have bets on when she’s goin’ to croak. There’s a money pot in the back. But the more religious of us believe that even when she does bite the dust, she won’t go far. You’ve heard her yell, that’s not something stopped by death.”

Beca hummed for a moment and stared down the stretch of hallway. Ian looked like the only spirit here. The mop squelched under his weight, its water a dark color that was akin to blood. If she didn’t need to use the bathroom before, her midsection ached as if it had to now.

“Religious, are we?”

“Not all of us, no.” He shook his head, kicking dumbly at the dingy yellow bucket “When you live in a place like this it’s easier to cling to the idea of something, suppose. Some of us prefer logic, but there’s a temple in the basement if you’re inclined.”

She wasn’t, not in the slightest. She wished she wasn’t blinking away sleep or the raw feeling in her bones. She should have brought up her journal, something to pull bytes from. She would shield his name from the public- no one with sense listens to an orderly, but lucky for Beca Mitchell, she didn’t have much, to begin with.

Beca fished into her front pocket, still soaked with ink, and produced a folded five-dollar bill. It was damp from her own sweat, or maybe the coolness of the weather. She clamped it between two fingers and held it out “Five on her not making it until I leave.”

Ian eyed it apprehensively for a moment before that dazzling smile cut through his expression. He grabbed and unfolded it, letting it snap like a wet towel in a locker room. “It’s a bet, Beca.”

“What’s a bet?”

A certain blush of color rushed to Ivan’s cheeks. It was painstakingly visible under the fluorescents. He stopped leaning on the stick of the mop like a vice and pushed its soaked base around. Beca stiffened at the sound of authority in the stranger's voice. This wasn’t Emma, and by the sharp tone, it wasn’t a patient either.

“Nothing, Miss Beale, the new kid and I were just discussin’ a few things.” He cleared his throat.

Beca let her shoulders drop as she turned to face the woman. Her lungs contracted and suddenly she felt like no amount of water, or liquor, in the world would quench her thirst. Even in the light of the harsh overheads, the woman held a certain archaic beauty to her; a painting that was left unfinished by just one stroke of a brush, a pencil drawing smeared by the palm of the hand.

Her hair was like fire, or the sun bouncing off of a large body of water. It flowed around her shoulders and stood out magnificently against the mint green undershirt that was hidden by a nurse's apron. She wore the same shoes Emma did, and Beca realized at that moment that they were impossibly quiet and that she had been staring, open-mouthed, for two long.

“You’re the head nurse?” She took note of the name. “I wasn’t expecting…”

The woman narrowed her eyes “No, go on, finish your sentence.”  

“Someone so young.”

“Right, well, someone as young as me also isn’t as daft as one would think. I don’t take kindly to my staff betting on the mortality rate of my patients. You seem well seasoned, I figured you would know that.”

Beca felt like she had been punched in the gut. The only thing worse than doing a bad thing was getting caught doing a bad thing. Emma had said that the nurses wouldn’t take to her in any capacity. But Nurse Beale’s hostility made her skin prickle. She was taken aback by the insult and even more by the beauty of the mouth spouting it.

The nurse must have sensed this, she lifted her chin, tone softer as she walked towards the stairs “Follow me.”

The reporter gaped for a few moments before dashing off behind the woman. She gave Ian a half-decent goodbye first. She pretended vaguely to not be out of breath. Nurse Beale was fast, and mean, and damned attractive.

“Not even an hour here and I’m being taken to the principal’s office.”

“I’m not in charge.”

“Sure act like it.”

She stopped abruptly. Beca was shorter than her and walking faster, her shoulder hitting the other woman’s. The nurse was cold, not just in demeanor, but by the touch of a hand. Beca felt every inch of hair raise as her breath caught. She smelled metallic and hot like the base of a tea kettle.

“While you’re in Evergreen, Miss Mitchell, there is a certain code of conduct that is to be followed.”

Beca swallowed hard, “Which is?”

“Respect,” She drew out the word like the long edge of a blade “The staff respects me, and I mind Emma. But when Emma isn’t around.”

“You’re the one to follow,” Beca nodded slowly.

“Right. And I don’t much appreciate you snooping through the halls at night. Not for a puff piece.”

Beca let out a laugh that might have been too loud and nervous for the situation, but she didn’t care. Her cheeks here hot and her fingers were twitching, and the woman in front of her was dragging her stare up and down her body.

“A Puff piece? This is going to be the story of the year.”

“Quite cocky for a woman.” Beca frowned and the woman held up a hand “Mind yourself, Miss Mitchell. You know where your quarters are. I suggest you find your way back to them.”

The woman walked briskly past the staircase and through a set of doors that were labeled in big red letters. Off-limits. Beca watched as she vanished. She stood at the top of the staircase for a few moments, fingers trying to rub some feeling back into the place where her arm brushed with the head nurse.  

[serararku]

Going for Gold

<Theme>

The mirror covered the entire wall from floor to ceiling. It was dirty from scratches, smudges, and smears, but it still served its purpose well enough. S’era and Scarlett stood under the harsh theatre lights in the backstage room, shoulder to shoulder with a dozen or more Gold Saucer bunny girls. Amidst the constant noise from their chatter, they checked themselves to ensure they were presentable for tonight’s patrons. It was difficult to see, let alone breathe, under the smoggy mixture of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, but the last thing they wanted to do was complain to the Headmistress; the portly woman too busy counting all the gil that was flowing her way to even notice the two newcomers weren’t even employees.

It was the first time S’era had seen herself in a full body mirror. She stared in awe at herself, with her bunny outfit leaving little to the imagination. The Miqo’te ran her hands down her satin corset and laced underwear, then turned to the side to gawk at her shapely figure. “Wow…” She mumbled to herself, unable to resist striking a pose. “Is this what Zevi sees every day?!”

Scarlett wasn’t so eager to show off, wasting no time trying to disappear behind S’era. Every little move she made, Scarlett adjusted with her, her face pink as she felt judging eyes on her body. Her voice dropped low to S’era’s ear, “W-when you said bunny suits this isn’t...what I had in m-mind, S’era.” she looked around curiously, trying not to draw any attention to the pair.

“I know right? These are way smaller than the practice outfits. Why, it leaves nothing at all to the imagination, huh?” S’era turned to her partner in crime and looked her over; it was clear Scarlett wasn’t used to wearing something so scantily-clad, at least not in public. Scarlett stood awkwardly as she awaited her assessment- hopefully she could relax in time so their target wouldn’t get suspicious. “Everything seems to be holding in the right place. Let’s take a peek out the curtain and see what we’re dealing with.” She still walked a little clumsily in her high heels, but at least she was able to retain her balance; how she planned to run in those was the golden question.

The VIP room appeared more like a private theatre than anything else. Several large viewing screens cycled through different angles of the chocobo races, with more than a few patrons placing their bets with enough gil to refurbish a port. Cigar smoke hung in the air like a dusty fog, choking out the illuminated pathways winding around the room. On the other end was a Viera woman dressed in a familiar bunny garb -- minus the fake ears, of course; she twirled and danced around a metal pole, as most of the patrons this evening huddled at her feet, slipping minted platinum coins into a nearby slot to keep her dancing. S’era squinted her eyes and saw the target, a lone Lalafell watching the dancer from afar at a corner of the room.

Leleradu sat in the dark, with a lukewarm drink in one hand and his feet kicked up on the table. None of the girls were paying him any attention, certainly not while these highrollers showered them with wealth beyond their wildest dreams; even in the dark and clouded by smoke S’era could see the familiar longing in his eyes. She couldn’t ask for an easier target.

“There he is. Over there.” S’era whispered to Scarlett who was huddled against her back, if only to increase her chances of not being seen -- all while the Miqo’te nonchalantly pulled out a wedgie. “Alright… we’ll sit down and I’ll charm him a bit, and once he’s melting between my fingers you give him the goodnight pinch.” She didn’t even wait for her answer, she adjusted herself one last time and began making her way to the bar to grab her soon-to-be ‘patron’ a drink.

Steady breaths left Scarlett as she watched S’era in all her glory and confidant strides walk to the bar. It was hard to feel like she didn’t stand out considering nearly everything was….out there. She gave a bright smile to a woman in the same get-up walking past her and out into the lounge. Taking that chance, Scarlett scooted out behind S’era, trying not to break her neck in the process but also seemed as though she belonged.

“Hi, wonderful hair!” she complimented people in passing while wearing a painted smile, the only thing she could easily pass off. As soon as S’era turned toward the bar, she broke off in a half-sprint toward the Lalafell, feeling butt-naked and vulnerable now that she didn’t have the short Miqo’te to hide behind. “Great to see you~” she sang out, casually sitting at the other end of Leleradu’s booth, her arm cascading over the back of the plush leather. The Lalafell jumped once he noticed her presence; he was remarkably skittish for some alleged gambler. “The dancers are like no other here.” Scarlett ignored his spasm and did her best to jumpstart a conversation, her eyes casually glancing in S’era’s direction while silently begging for her to hurry.

“Yes… Yalde is the best dancer here…” Leleradu peeled his beady eyes from the Viera’s performance to peer curiously at Scarlett. “I’ve never seen you here before… are you um… new?”

“I am.” she confirmed as she watched the Viera without trying to make it seem like she had been intently trying not to gawk too hard at her and the strangers. Leleradu made a strange noise before folding his legs together, his beady little eyes staring down at Scarlett’s chest while beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. She did her utmost best to ignore that too.

“We both are!” S’era finally returned, with a fresh bubbling drink in her hand. Coiling her tail around her waist she slid into the seat beside him, making sure her thigh was pressed against his leg. “Hey there, handsome. This here is Ruby, and I’m Sapphire. Here...” She plucked the glass from his hand and tossed it over her shoulder before offering him her ‘special’ drink. “You look a little thirsty. Why not sip on mine?”

“O-oh… thank you…” He gingerly accepted the offer and sipped tentatively. 

She waited until he was a few more sips in before responding with, “Oh it’s not for free. You’ll have to pay us back for that.” She flashed her teeth as she looked over her shoulder, giving Scarlett a playful wink.

Leleradu’s face turned pale. “B-but I don’t have any gil…!” cried the gambler. S’era leaned against him, pressing his arm in between her breasts.

“I can think of other forms of payment, little man.” Her tail slipped up his chest to brush against his chin. “How about you finish your drink so the three of us can find someplace quiet?” The Gambler wasn’t about to pass up a drink and a good time- especially when they’re both free. He knocked the drink back faster than she expected, and already turned to paw at her fishnet leggings.

Scarlett sat numb -- her brain could barely keep up and focus let alone process what had been happening. Between the dancer, the Lalafell, S’era’s odd advances and now suddenly she was Ruby?

Wait -- what? A quiet place, the three of them? Instantly Scarlett’s eyes snapped to S’era and Leleradu in complete silence. With any luck she wouldn’t have to be much of a third party to anything. 

S’era slapped Leleradu’s hand away from her thigh as a grin spread across her face. “Is that any way to handle a woman? Take it sloooow, honey. We have all night to get to know each other…” She took him by the wrist and brushed his fingers against her chest, before placing his hand beneath her chin. She then began to purr -- loudly and forcibly, however Leleradu clearly didn’t know the difference. “Isn’t that better? Just you, and me, and our friend. Alone to explore each other, heeheehee…!” There was a heavy fall of ‘Ruby’s’ stomach to which it might have bottomed out in the pit of her pelvis, this sickening feeling that washed over her as she listened to the weird excited sounds of their target. Worse that she had to watch it unfold to some degree. 

To say she was uncomfortable was a vast understatement, in any other situation the Monk might have blushed or stuttered but all she wanted to do was to punch the man due to the lack of patience and her comfort levels plummeting -- perhaps more so those extra steps S’era was taking in her advances.

Leleradu had the biggest and goofiest grin plastered to his face before it began to fade. His head teetered to and fro, and in a moment his eyes lost focus. She silently watched him desperately cling to consciousness, but the medicine she used was strong enough to knock a goobbue off its feet. At last the Lalafell fell to the side like a sleeping toddler, his big head dropping onto S’era’s lap.

“Finally…!” She whispered, signaling Scarlett over as her act was over. “I was afraid it wasn’t gonna work! Let’s get him in the sack then get the hells outta here!”

Her attention snapped to and she ticked a gaze over to S’era, “What?” She seemed a little frazzled when she stood up and looked towards the man and the Miqo’te, “I thought you wanted me to jab him?” She quietly huffed out, standing in front of the pair to make sure no one passing by caught a glimpse of what was going on. In reality, it all looked as if the man might have had too much to drink. Already the plan was going to shit -- where exactly was the sack? The Monk looked about and tried not to seem frantic in search of the item.

“This will only keep him out for a few minutes. Quick- get the sack from the prep room. It should be under the table.” S’era looked down at the stirring bounty before glancing back up at Scarlett. “Unless you want to stay with him and I’ll go get it? Your choice.” Two Roegadyn bouncers, one Sea Wolf and the other Hellsguard, began to peer in their direction, noticing them all huddled in the back corner of the lounge; with any luck they would assume they were tending to a patron, but just as Scarlett began looking around, one of them began their slow approach to see what was amiss.

She swallowed dryly before backing away from her partner in crime. She turned to move and came face to face with one of the bouncers, gazing up to his pale blue face, “Sorry!” she huffed, reaching behind her with one hand, with the other hand coming up as Scarlett kept her arm pressed to her front where her corset went limp, “O-oh you’re a strapping fellow….I need your help.” she smiled upward, “I’ve popped a string...could you maybe help me back to the prep room so I’m not seen by anyone while my friend Sapphire here entertains the patreons?” 

He let out a grunt when he eyed her fashion-disaster. “Damn Manderville and his cheap suits. Alright, let’s go.” He pulled off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. Confidence surged through her now that she was fully covered, half dragging the bouncer along with her and keeping her corset pinned to her frame on the way back to the prep room backstage.

S’era looked up to see the dark red bouncer coming up the aisle. She propped Leleradu under her arm and began running her fingers through his hair by the time the Roegadyn was close enough to talk to. “Everything going alright?” He asked, eyeing the Lalafell suspiciously. “He ain’t giving you two any trouble, is he?”

“Nope!” S’era beamed, glancing down at him. “He’s just had a little too much to drink. I hope he wakes up soon… I want to play some more.” He smiled at that, and began making his way back to his post. Yet the moment he turned his back on her, she began scanning the room for the best exit. “The main entrance is guarded by those two bouncers… so that’s a no go. The best way out would be through the prep room? No no, far too many eyes. They would spot us for sure…” As the gears turned round and round in her head from devising an exit strategy, Scarlett returned- without the bouncer, but with the sack. “Excellent…! Now we just have to-”

“Neeuugh…” Leleradu shifted and squirmed in S’era’s lap. “What… what hap-URK!” Scarlett swiftly jabbed him at the carotid sinus at the neck and the Lalafell dropped limp like a doll back into S’era’s lap. 

“You need to teach me that sometime.” She lifted the bounty up like a giant plush doll and stuffed him headfirst into the cross-stitched linen sack. With little choice and zero time, they decided to make a run for it toward the nearest exit!

Downstairs, R’zevi had lost count of the number of times he’d circled around the Saucer - gathering trash, trying to avoid security and simply fade into the background; that was something he was usually very good at. This usually didn’t include patrons at the Gold Saucer who liked to dump their trash everywhere. He glanced up towards the staircase S’era and Scarlett were supposed to have been down several minutes before turning his attention back to gathering yet another pile of discarded trash, while pretending not to hear the security guard as he approached. The cleared throat was a good indication that he hadn’t succeeded in simply ‘blending in’. 

“Hey - got another issue up by Chocobo Racing, need you to take care of it.”

R’zevi blinked - glancing at the stairs again before giving the guard a confused look. “You want me to pull this cart up those stairs, when there are people already up there who can clean whatever this ‘issue’ is up?” The last thing on his mind right now was shoveling another wheelbarrow full of chocobo poop. They had people up there already for that exact problem.

Yet the look on the security guard’s face made it clear he could not care less about his plight if he tried- and he was trying. “Yeah - and that’s what you’re getting paid for, so you’re gonna do it.”

He gave him a dirty look while he sauntered off- cleaning the chocobo pens could take another hour, and he needed to be here when they returned! Begrudgingly he began to pull his cart toward the base of the stairs, still wondering how such a fine establishment didn’t have elevators for the custodians to use. Maybe if he was fast enough he co-

“HEY!” Someone shouted from the top floor. “GET BACK HERE!” 

R’zevi squinted his eyes and stood up straight once he saw them- two bunny girls running as fast as they could in high heels, with one of them hauling a sack with a Lalafellin-sized lump smacking against her back as she hurried; the other bunny girl was pulling things off the nearby counters to stall the red and blue Roegadyn bouncers in hot pursuit. Once they reached the top of the stairs they lifted their rears onto the railing and slid down the spiraling staircase on the other side of the Main Stage. He pulled down his hat and began pushing his cart toward the mini arcade tucked away in the corner, as S’era got the crowd cheering and applauding from the free show of her breasts bouncing with every run and step; she wasn’t very fast in those high heels, but thankfully her pursuers cautiously descended the stairs to avoid tripping and falling, before they slammed into the crowd at the bottom floor.

“There!” S’era gasped, embarrassed by the rowdy crowd but thankful they were stepping out of the way to let them pass; to make it even better, they were forming back up behind them, causing the two bouncers to slow down as they forced their way through. R’zevi pulled out a woolen sack of garbage he had collected since donning his disguise, and braced himself- it had to look natural, just as she planned. S’era turned to look over her shoulder and leaned in with her shoulder, just as they rushed into the arcade.

THWACK!

S'era and R'zevi smacked into each other and fell, tossing the sack into his cart with a hard thud. Scarlett took a moment to look over her shoulder for the bouncers, but they were stuck behind the cheering crowd. When she looked back, S'era was busy pulling off her high-heeled thigh boots, as R'zevi was stuffing a definitely unconscious Leleradu into the inconspicuous side door of his now dented cart. "Thanks, love!" S'era beamed, pecking him on the lips after they exchanged bags.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" He cried out, throwing his arms up before kicking the cart over. "Watch where you're running!" 

Scarlett had just managed to pull off her heels before S'era grabbed her by the wrist and took off running; this time much, much faster. Right on queue the bouncers broke free of the crowd and began sprinting across the Main Stage towards the arcade, both of them out of breath and out of patience. “You there!” One of them shouted, pointing at R’zevi. “Two women dressed as VIP employees came running through here! Did you see them?”

“Did I see them?!” He repeated, gesturing to his dented cart. “They smashed right into me and tossed all this garbage everywhere before they took off!”

“Which way did they go?!”

“Down the hallway, towards the Round Square!” R’zevi wanted to throw them off, but S’era was against it- she wanted her pursuers to believe R’zevi was completely innocent and not at all involved in her scheme, otherwise they may search the cart and find a bruised Leleradu tucked away for safekeeping.

“Godsdamnit!” One of them grunted, turning to glare at the other. “They’re going to the Leap of Faith! Let’s go!” 

R’zevi kept up his act until they were beyond the arcade and out of sight. Once the scattered trash was stuffed into the back with their prize, he pushed his cart back to the custodian’s closet. The nearby garbage chute led straight to the bottom of the Gold Saucer, where regular Ul’dah workers would sift through the refuse to collect anything that could be recycled, and burn everything else. He looked over his shoulder one last time to ensure there were no witnesses. Once he was convinced the coast was clear, R’zevi dropped Leleradu into the chute, pulled a mask over his mouth for the smell, and climbed in right behind him.

“Almost there…!” S’era shouted back at Scarlett, who was being dragged around the Gold Saucer. Just up ahead sat the portal to the Leap of Faith timed event, with people already excitedly stepping in to join the fun. Scarlett looked over her shoulder to see the two bouncers turn the corner on the other side of the large cylinder chamber, and just before S’era dragged them both through the portal, she broke off and stepped into the nearby crowd huddled around the minibar and prize booths. Would this work? Would they fall for this diversion? What if they didn’t? What if they spotted her?

Scarlett covered her mouth as she caught her breath, pulled off her bunny ear headband, and turned her back to the opening in the crowd. With luck both Roegadyn bouncers leapt feet first into the portal after S’era. Now all she had to do was pick up her clothes R’zevi placed in the designated spot behind an arcade machine in the Minion Square on the lower level, change out of this ridiculously scandalous costume, and casually leave the main entrance before the VIP Lounge sent more people who could recognize her. Scarlett’s shoulders finally loosened as the adrenaline pumping through her veins began to wear off; her part in this heist was over, at last.

S’era on the other hand was just getting started. When she jumped through the portal with the sack of garbage over her shoulder, she was met with a rush of warm air and welcomed sunlight. The course was almost a mile above La Noscea, on a beautifully sunny afternoon, with a soothing breeze that swept through her body to soothe her soul. This temperate climate is why so many Miqo’te tribes have settled on these shores, and although her heart belonged to the dusty wastes of Thanalan, she was still in her element here.

“Stop! Hey!” Her distraction was short lived when she heard the two bouncers stumble through the portal after her. “You’re under arrest! Put the Lalafell down nice and easy… don’t make this harder than it has to be. You’ve got nowhere to run… this little chase is over.”

“Leleradu is mine!” S’era sneered, turning her back to the two brutes. They dashed after her to close the distance; either one could easily tackle her to the ground if they managed to grab her, but there was one crucial detail they didn’t take into account. Aside from the Viera, Miqo’te had the strongest legs of all Hydaelyn mortal races.

S’era leapt almost four meters high and soared through the air to a floating platform further down the course, landing both bare feet on the edge with a soft thud before taking off into a sprint again. If these bouncers wanted her and her hostage, they would have to do this her way. 

“Damnit…! Stay here in case she falls off! I’ll corner her on the other end!” The Sea Wolf remained ready at the entrance as the Hellsguard took the long way through the course, leaping over small gaps of the bridges and stumbling on the narrow floating steps leading him further and deeper into the event. He caught glimpses of S’era scrambling up the side of a stone wall like a squirrel, or leaping clean over his head a dozen meters above him, but he was never close enough to catch. “Gragh!” He roared, shoulder-checking a Hrothgar and sending him flipping down through the air. He shoved a lovely Hyur couple when they jumped onto the platform before him as well. “Get out of my way!”

S’era waited for him on the highest part of the course, where she could see both the end goal and the starting point. The view was notably gorgeous, with the surrounding forcefield maintained over the entire Leap of Faith event warping the vast stretches of land below into a fisheye lense. With Leleradu safely removed from the Gold Saucer by R’zevi, and Scarlett on her way to the airship to return to Ul’dah, all she had to worry about was escaping herself.

“Stop…! Stop right there…!” A raspy voice called out between his coarse wheezing fits, struggling to pull himself up the edge to stand on her platform. He slumped over and leaned against his knees, drenched with sweat and absolutely exhausted. “You have… hahhh…. nowhere else to go… just give… up!” 

“Well? What are you waiting for?” S’era called out, adjusting the sack on her shoulder. “Are you gonna come here and arrest me or not?”

“Guhh…” He straightened his back before stepping onto the narrow tree bridge between them. His balance was pretty good, for a Hellsguard Roegadyn, but it was about to become much, much worse. S’era swung the sack off her shoulder and began spinning it around over her head, much to the shock of the bouncer. “Hey… don’t do that!” Her eyes flickered when she suddenly loosened her grip, sending the sack flying towards him. “What are you do-OOF!” The bouncer caught it at the expense of his balance, causing his foot to slip off the tree trunk to send him toppling over. “AAAaaaaaaahhhh….!” Before he got too far down, the forcefield caught him midair, and he vanished out of sight.

The Sea Wolf bouncer shot to his feet when his coworker reappeared, landing on the soft grass with a hard thud. “Did you get her?!” He asked, eyeing the sack excitedly. Before he had a chance to reply, S’era appeared, using her tail to spin in the air so she would land on her hands and feet. 

“GOTCHA!” His burly arms swung wide to close in on S’era, but she leapt high into the air- far higher than he expected. Both feet came down hard on his face with a THWOP THWOP before she vanished in a cloud of smoke behind him.

“She went through the portal! After her!” The other bouncer grunted, clutching the prize tightly in his grasp. When they rushed back through to the Gold Saucer, they looked around for any sign of the slippery woman- but she was nowhere to be found. “Damn… she’s gone.” He wiped the sweat from his brow before collapsing onto his backside. “They don’t pay us enough for this…”

“At least we got the halfman back.” Grinned the other, pulling the sack up and turning it over to dump its contents. Discarded food, used up cactpot tickets, and plastic cups scattered all over their feet, with one particular Lalafellin gambler still missing.

“What do you two morons think you’re doing?!” Shouted the manager of the Round Square. “Dumping your trash all over the floor?! Guess who gets to clean all this up?! That’s right, get a move on!” Defeatedly the two bouncers began scooping up the garbage, much to their embarrassment as the shouting attracted the attention of just about everyone nearby. 

“They definitely don’t pay us enough for this…” One of them grumbled under his breath, wondering if there were any mercenary guilds looking to hire.

---

Collab: @rzevi-tia-ffxiv​ @mira-isenhart-xiv​

[angelofthequeers]

Minty Fresh, Strawberry Sweet, Cinnamon Spice: chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Hey, @zenniaphoenix - I’m your backup @mlsecretsanta gifter and when I saw Adrigaminette, I had to snap it up! This first chapter can technically stand alone, since the rest of this fic was inspired by writing this chapter, so you don’t have to read the later chapters once I post them. But this one’s all for you!

Chapter 2 | AO3 link

“Which flavours for these two?” André sings. He gestures to Kagami and Adrien. “Orange and peppermint, a perfect pairing that’s always a success; nothing can turn it into a mess! And for you two –” He waves his hand at Adrien and Marinette, “– blackberry and peppermint, an explosive mix! That’s a fact, but oftentimes it’s the opposites that attract!” Then he looks at Marinette and Kagami and finishes, “Orange and blackberry, quite unusual, it’s true! Not the most obvious but it works for you two! So, what will it be?”

“You pick,” Kagami says to Marinette. “I don’t really get what he’s saying, anyway.”

“Yeah, you pick, Marinette!” Adrien says with a smile that scorches Marinette’s insides. “We trust you!”

Orange and peppermint? Blackberry and peppermint? Orange and blackberry? Which one should Marinette choose? Which two out of the three of them would work best together?

Two out of three flavours? Or people? whispers a nasty little voice. Marinette shakes her head to clear it.

“Can’t you find a blend for the three of us?” she says desperately. André sighs and shakes his head, while Adrien furrows his brow and looks between Marinette and Kagami.

“I can, but too many flavours mixed together may throw off the delicate balance,” André says.

“Neapolitan ice cream exists,” Kagami says before Marinette can tear her hair out trying to decide which pairing would work best. “And from what I gather, the flavours you listed refer to us. Does that mean that we’re solely one flavour, or are there others that could work for us?”

“Besides, orange and peppermint?” Adrien wrinkles his nose. “Have you ever brushed your teeth and then had orange juice? I’m guessing I’m the mint and Kagami’s the orange.”

“Implying that we wouldn’t work well together,” Kagami says, raising her eyebrow at André. “Even though you said that that pairing is always a success.”

“Maybe we just need a good flavour to balance out the orange and peppermint?” Adrien says. Marinette follows their conversation like one might follow a tennis volley, with her head whipping from Adrien to Kagami and then back to Adrien. “Or maybe our triple blend is made up of entirely different flavours?”

“Well, I think Adrien’s definitely peppermint,” Marinette says. “Delicious with a hidden kick!” Then she squeaks and covers her face and babbles, “Why did I say that, why did I say that –”

“Because you’re totally right,” Kagami says. “Adrien is peppermint. And I feel like you would be more strawberry than blackberry, since you’re fresh and sweet but also have a hint of acid to you. I’m just unsure as to how orange refers to me.”

“Are you even a fruit at all?” Adrien says, while heat floods Marinette’s face at Kagami’s description of her.

“Y-Yeah,” Marinette forces out. “You’re unconventional. You can intimidate people at first but once they get to know you, they realise just how much they love you.”

Kagami’s cheeks flush pink at that, although Marinette’s not in any hurry to pause and examine the implications of what she’d just said in wake of Kagami’s words about her first. Not if she wants to keep what few brain cells that she has left around these two, especially after the morning she’d just shared with them.

“So, a flavour that’s unconventional and a little intimidating but also amazing,” Adrien says. He and Marinette exchange looks.

“Cinnamon!” they burst out together. Kagami’s eyebrows rise.

“Cinnamon?” she says.

“Yeah!” Marinette says. “I mean, you’ve got cinnamon eyes! And just like Adrien’s peppermint, you’ve got a kick to you! Oh, and you’re not as widely-picked as him but the people who pick you know exactly what they’re doing!”

“Plus, cinnamon can intimidate some people,” Adrien says. “Remember the cinnamon challenge floating around on the internet?”

“Do I?” Marinette snorts. “People are ridiculous. But hey, I bet we can handle cinnamon!”

“Really?” Kagami says with twitching lips.

“Yeah!” Marinette nods and turns to face André, beaming widely now that she doesn’t have to make a choice that’ll impact the love lives of her and her friends. “Each flavour balances the others out! Peppermint, strawberry, and cinnamon, please, André!”

“Hmm.” André strokes his chins as he regards the three of them. “André hadn’t thought of those flavours, that much is true. Perhaps this really is the blend that represents you!” He scoops out a ball of pink strawberry ice cream, followed by one of green peppermint, then pale brown cinnamon to top it off. After sticking three spoons into it, he hands it to Adrien and beams at them.

“So,” Adrien says as the three of them walk off with their ice cream. “You think they’ve figured out where we’ve gone?”

“I don’t see why they would assume that we’d gone to get soulmate ice cream,” Kagami says. Her eyes light up when Adrien offers her a spoonful of peppermint ice cream, and she hums and closes her lips around the spoon. “Mmm. You taste good, Adrien.”

“O-Oh. Thanks,” says a red-faced Adrien. Marinette forces out a laugh, though she can’t deny that the little sweet romantic interaction between Adrien and Kagami has left a sour pit in her gut. Even if her ice cream flavour is in there as well.

“You have to try it, Marinette!” Kagami takes the spoon from Adrien and scoops up a little of the peppermint for Marinette to try. Okay, so Kagami’s feeding her Adrien ice cream, and – no, Marinette, don’t think about it, not unless you want to freak out –

“Tastes just as good as the last time I had it!” Marinette blurts out after swallowing her mouthful of ice cream. Then the blood drains from her face at the realisation of what she’d just said.

“Wait…I was your ice cream?” Adrien looks like he’s been hit over the head by an akuma, although hopefully that’s due to bewilderment and not revulsion. Hopefully. But he’d agreed to a three-way ice cream…right?

“It makes sense,” Kagami says. “Marinette, tell him.”

“But – I – I can’t –”

“Don’t hesitate!” Kagami throws out an arm to stop Adrien and Marinette in their tracks, then whirls around until she’s nose-to-nose with Marinette. “Remember what I told you at the ice rink? I never hesitate. How do you expect him to consider you as an option if you haven’t made yourself one?”

“Marinette…has a crush on me?” says a slowly-blinking Adrien.

“Hush.” Kagami jabs a finger at him. “Be courageous, Marinette. No more torturing yourself with what-ifs. If you want something, go for it!”

“Why are you even encouraging me?” Marinette decides that it’s finally time to address the elephant in the room. “I thought you wanted Adrien? Doesn’t encouraging me to tell him that I love him defeat that purpose?”

To Marinette’s astonishment, Kagami just throws back her head and laughs.

“Of course I want Adrien,” Kagami says. “As do you. And I know Adrien wants both of us.”

“Wait, what?” Adrien says. “I don’t – but my – Ladybug!”

Marinette and Kagami turn to stare at Adrien, although Marinette’s reacting out of sheer shock, so she’s not sure what Kagami’s motivating emotion is. Adrien’s in love with her? Well, Ladybug, but her?

“Ladybug’s been your target this whole time?” Kagami says. “Adrien, how in the world could you have a lasting relationship with her? She’s a superhero. You’re a civilian, and a famous one at that.”

“She’d never want to put you in danger like that, no matter how much she might like you,” Marinette rasps around her swollen tongue. “You couldn’t go on real dates with her. You’d have to be stealthy to avoid Hawkmoth finding out. If she won’t even date Chat Noir…maybe she’s too careful to put anyone in Hawkmoth’s sights like that. Maybe she’s too scared to endanger someone else.”

“Focus on what’s in front of you,” Kagami says. “I like you. Marinette just confessed that she likes you.”

Marinette lets out a high-pitched squeak at the realisation that Kagami’s right, she’d just admitted in front of Adrien that she loves him –

“But I can’t choose between you two!” Adrien grabs at his golden hair with his free hand. “You both mean so much to me! I don’t want to hurt either of you!”

“I think the solution here is obvious.” Kagami points at the ice cream. “Those are our flavours, are they not? We worked together and found a blend that encompassed all three of us. You and I work well together. You and Marinette work well together. And Marinette and I could possibly work well together too. There’s nothing stopping you from dating us both.”

Both Adrien and Marinette let out choked gasps at Kagami’s words and try to recover at least one brain cell between them.

“Is that even a thing?” Marinette finally blurts out, recovering just seconds before Adrien.

“As far as I’m aware,” Kagami says. “And even if others don’t accept it, I refuse to allow them to dictate my life. I’m very much interested in Adrien. It’s very likely that I might also develop feelings for you. You’ve been in love with Adrien for a while now. And I know for a fact that Adrien likes not only me but also you, no matter how much he claims that his heart belongs to Ladybug.”

“H-How can you be sure?” Adrien stammers, while Marinette has no doubt that her face would be as red as Ladybug’s suit if she could look in a mirror.

“Marinette was your concern at the ice rink. You always manage to find a way to talk about her when we’re together.” Kagami ticks off her list on her fingers. “The way you’ve been looking at her all morning and even back during the movie premiere. Even the way you’re conflicted between me and her. If you truly didn’t have feelings for her, you wouldn’t be agonising over choosing between us. Your concern would be to avoid hurting her while choosing me, not trying to figure out which one of us you want.”

“But…I like you, Kagami,” Adrien says in a little lost voice. Marinette resists the urge to grab the ice cream out of his hand and suffocate herself with it, although she’s not sure whether that’s out of jealousy or sheer why can’t he get it?

“I know you do,” Kagami says. “And you like Marinette. That’s why I’m not telling you to choose. I know you can’t choose.”

“Kagami –”

“Adrien. Stop. Look me in the eye and tell me that this isn’t the perfect solution to your problem.”

“I-I’d be happy with it,” Marinette croaks. “I mean – well – if it comes down to it, I’ll step aside if it makes Adrien happy. But I don’t mind, well…sharing you with Kagami. And maybe I could like Kagami in that way at some point? I think the seeds are there. I’m just trying not to think about it right now, so my head doesn’t explode…”

Kagami smiles at Marinette, causing brilliant warmth to erupt in her stomach and trickle through her like a hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day. Oops. Can she not start to catch feelings for Kagami when she’s currently wrestling with her feelings for Adrien?

“You’d give up a chance to be with me just to make me happy?” Adrien says, staring at Marinette with wide eyes. The heat in her body surges to her face.

“Y-Yeah,” she says. “You deserve to be happy, Adrien. I’ll always do whatever I need to do to make sure of that, even if I have to let you go. Just like I helped you with Kagami at the ice rink.” She ducks her head and whispers, “I l-l-love you too much to keep you to myself if it’d make you miserable.”

“I truly do believe that you would’ve chosen the orange and peppermint combination if you’d been forced to do so,” Kagami says dryly. “Why do you think I spoke up? You’re my only friend aside from Adrien, and I refuse to hurt you for a boy. If we can both have him, I’m happy to share.”

“I thought you weren’t about second place,” Marinette teases weakly. When she looks up, Kagami’s lips are twitching.

“It’s hardly second place if I’m not missing out,” Kagami says. “Not only would I have Adrien, but I’d also have the knowledge that his other partner is the only other person I can think of who’s worthy of him, and vice versa. I like to think of it as equal first place.”

Marinette shoots a look at Adrien, who’s practically got visible cogs turning in his head as he processes what had just happened over the past few minutes. She refuses to let the hope break free from where it’s straining in her heart, though. It’s Adrien’s choice and she’s not going to try and influence him in any way, no matter her feelings on the matter.

“I think…” Adrien takes a deep breath. Both Marinette and Kagami lean in closer. “I really like that idea. But…I think I need a bit longer to wrap my head around it. And to push my feelings for Ladybug aside. Like, I know we won’t ever be together, but my heart doesn’t really know that yet, and I don’t want to hurt either of you by jumping in when I’m not ready. Especially because I do like both of you. I’ve liked Kagami for a while now and Marinette…” Adrien scratches the back of his neck with a nervous grin. “You’ve always been more than a friend to me. I guess I just didn’t realise it until now, when you became a possibility. I always felt like there was something…well, off between us. That you’ve never liked me but just acted like you did to keep the peace.”

“Of course,” Kagami says immediately, while Marinette lets out the breath that she’d been keeping locked in her lungs. “This isn’t a decision to rush into. But don’t take too long to decide, Adrien. Your indecision could hurt us.”

“And that’s not true at all!” Marinette says. “You’ve always been a friend to me, Adrien. I’ve just…um…I’ve…”

“Go on,” Kagami says, grabbing Marinette’s hand and squeezing it. “I’ve made my feelings for Adrien clear, so now is your chance to clear the air and be completely honest.”

Marinette takes a deep breath, drawing courage from the warmth radiating from where Kagami’s bare skin is touching hers. She’s already told Adrien that she loves him. He likes her back. She can do this!

“I’ve loved you ever since you gave me your umbrella,” Marinette whispers. “When you showed me that you weren’t just another rich jerk like Chloé. When I got a glimpse at the sweet, kind, lonely boy that was nothing like her. And ever since then, all I’ve seen is that you’re loyal and loving and brave and you just…you care so deeply, even when other people don’t deserve it. How could I not love you?”

Adrien just stares at her, his mouth hanging open and his cheeks dusted with rosy pink. Oh. Oh. Had Marinette really just said all that to him? She squeaks and covers her flaming face, but Adrien’s quick to grab her wrists and squeeze without trying to force her hands away.

“No! No!” he says. “Don’t get embarrassed! Please! Now I get why you’ve been so weird around me.”

“You should probably apologise for being so cute,” Kagami deadpans. Marinette uncovers her face just in time to see Adrien roll his eyes at Kagami in response.

“Sorry. Anxiety issues,” Marinette says in a high voice. “Not that you made me anxious! No, uh, it was just…you know, me working myself up to ask you out all these times and then freaking out because what if you rejected me or thought I was a weirdo and never wanted to talk to me again or even thought I was one of your crazy fangirls –”

“Marinette.” Kagami rests her hands on Marinette’s shoulders and squeezes. “Breathe. It’s okay. Adrien hasn’t rejected you.”

“Actually, I think I just realised what an amazing girl you are,” Adrien says softly as he looks down at the ground. “When you said all that stuff about me…wow, Marinette. I had no clue that was how you saw me. And I’ve never had anyone say that sort of thing to me. It’s usually always just about how cute or hot I am, or how they want to have my babies, or just fake compliments to get something from me.”

“I mean, you are cute!” Marinette blurts out. “But that’s not all you are! I hate that that’s all people see in you…”

“When you’ve been forced to navigate a bunch of rich people all your life, you tend to develop a sixth sense for sniffing out false compliments and fakeness in general, even if you can’t usually read people well,” Adrien says. “I didn’t even know you liked me until now, but what you said about me…it’s the truth. I can feel it.”

“I could never lie to you about something like that,” Marinette says to the ground.

“Well, you don’t need to get anxious around me from now on.” Adrien reaches out slowly, giving Marinette time to back away as she looks up, but when she nods, he pulls her into a loose hug, making sure to hold the ice cream out to avoid damaging it. “Thanks for being honest, Marinette. And thanks for telling me all that stuff. I think I needed to hear it. I’ll become your slave for life if you keep saying nice things about me.”

“We’re two socially awkward rich teenagers who thrive on attention,” Kagami says with twitching lips. “You’re the perfect balance for us, Marinette. That’s why I’m willing to share Adrien with you but not with anyone else. You bring out the best in us.”

Marinette nods into Adrien’s shoulder, then pulls back so she can grab the spoon from Kagami, scoop up a little bit of each flavour of ice cream, and hold it out for Adrien to taste, trying her hardest not to turn into a beetroot when his lips close around the spoon. His gorgeous green eyes light up.

“That’s so good!” he says once he’s swallowed the ice cream mix. “The strawberry’s nice and sweet with, like, this hint of something more, but you’d have to try more of it to get there. The cinnamon’s got a nice spicy kick but it’s also got a hint of sweetness! And the peppermint’s minty with this little bit of a peppery aftertaste. They really do balance each other out!”

“Just like we balance each other out,” Kagami says with a smirk. She winks at Marinette, who giggles and ducks her head with warm cheeks. But before Marinette can take a scoop of ice cream for herself, there’s the sound of screaming from the next street over, followed by gleeful cackling.

“The love of this city is so delectable!” says a male voice. Adrien immediately jumps in front of Marinette and Kagami and starts to shepherd them away from the voice.

“And these lovebirds! What a treat!” a female voice adds.

“You think it’s another double akuma like Oblivio?” Marinette says in a hushed voice.

“Oblivio?” Kagami says.

“Our two best friends. Alya and Nino.” Adrien drops the ice cream, letting it splatter on the ground so that he can grab Marinette and Kagami by the hands and take off running. They round the corner just in time to avoid being spotted by the…uh, head that floats around the corner?

“I cannot wait to devour the love of Ladybug and Chat Noir!” The male voice comes from the hideously stretched face on the pink floating head. But then the head flips a hundred and eighty degrees to reveal a woman’s face that’s equally as grotesque.

“What a lovely meal they’ll make, André!” the woman says. Marinette sucks in a breath as she, Kagami, and Adrien watch from around the corner of the building behind which they’re taking shelter.

“Mr and Mrs Bourgeois?” she hisses. She jumps when Adrien drops her hand and takes off running down the street.

“I’m gonna go find Ladybug and Chat Noir!” he calls. “Hide, both of you! I don’t want anything to happen to you!”

“Go after him, Kagami!” Marinette cries. “Trust me, hiding’s one of my best skills!”

Kagami grabs Marinette’s hands. “Don’t get caught! And don’t you dare do anything stupid!” Then she drops Marinette’s hands and sprints after Adrien. Marinette ducks behind a nearby car and opens her purse to let Tikki dart out.

“Time to transform!” Marinette says. “Tikki, spots on!”

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Of Poetry and Valentines

I’ve decided that even though I may not participate in every day of @ineffablehusbandsweek I might as well at least write a story for prompt #1.

1. Valentine’s Day -- (3,400 words)

Chocolate Love-A Cake.

Million Heart Cheesecake.

Mint-To-Be Chocolate Candies.

Some sort of cupcake simply titled Heart of the Batter.

Crowley had been standing in Aziraphale’s favorite bakery for over forty-five minutes. He’d stopped even trying to hold up the queue, which now simply flowed around him

Even the pastries without disgustingly twee names were covered in little frosting hearts and other nonsense. Not to mention all that pink.

“Are you ready to order yet?” asked the girl behind the till, handing yet another customer an absurdly elaborate confection that represented exactly six pounds and thirteen pence worth of I love you.

“Nh,” Crowley said, glancing at the coffee list. The flavors of the month started with Cupid Cappuccino and it went downhill fast from there. “Euh.”

“I’ll give you five more minutes,” she said, with far more chirpy good cheer than was strictly necessary.

--

The streets of Soho had been transformed. Paper hearts and cupids in every window; massive displays of roses, orchids, tulips and lilies spilled out in front of every shop, regardless of what they sold; even the nearest pub was covered in bright pink garlands and little red fairy lights.

Did no one in this district have even an ounce of self-respect?

Crowley stepped up to the Bentley and groaned. Someone had tied a red heart balloon to the wing mirror of every car on the street. Someone else had stuck little pink animal and flower shapes all over the windscreens.

The Bentley now sported a paper rabbit with Some bunny loves you! scrawled across it, as well as a large paper flower reading:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Here’s a Valentine

Just for you!

He pulled them both off and shredded them to confetti, yet all the tiny pieces still managed to look like little hearts. The balloon he transformed into a pink-and-red football and kicked it as far down the street as he could.

Crowley slammed the door of the Bentley as he climbed in, and angrily shoved one of his favorite Wagner CDs into the player. Of course, what emerged was not the prelude to Das Rheingold but Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”

He slapped the radio off and glared at the dashboard. “Cut that out. I swear to Someone, if you even try and pull that on me today…”

Leaving the threat to hang in the air, he turned the radio back on and skipped to the second song, which was now “March of the Black Queen.”

“Better,” he muttered, and pulled away from the kerb.

--

Aziraphale had never taken to Valentine’s Day, no more than any other saint’s feast day, in any case. He hadn’t commented at all when, almost six centuries ago, it had been co-opted by certain European courts as a day of romance.

Crowley, on the other hand, dove right into it, reveled in it: the poetry, the elaborate tournaments, the sighing tales of courtly love. He was in his element.

After all, a celebration of love might be considered Heavenly, but a day devoted to pageantry and dramatic empty gestures? With an undercurrent of lust masked by a noble myth of pure adoration? That sounded downright demonic.

At least, that’s what he told Head Office. Humans, as always, did ninety percent of the work. Crowley simply observed and dropped a few well-placed suggestions. The poetry got worse, the eloquent love declarations more empty.

By 1800, the exchange of awful verse and sappy greetings in mid-February had become so entrenched in English society that printers had begun to mass-produce cards for the holiday. By 1835, thousands of Valentines – store bought or handmade – were sent through the post every year.

A few more whispered words into the right ears. In 1840, postal rates across the kingdom dropped, and the first postage stamp was introduced. The next February, four hundred thousand Valentines Day cards were mailed all around the country – and, thanks to the changes in the postal system, they could now be sent anonymously.

--

On the thirteenth of February, 1841, an envelope was delivered to A.Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop – there was no sender’s address, no salutation, just a number and street name, hastily scribbled. Inside was a simple piece of white card, covered enthusiastically but inexpertly with white lace; pasted in the center, framed by a heart, was a printed image, a bouquet of red roses and blue forget-me-nots. Below, a bit of gold ribbon surrounded a single word: Devotion.

“I don’t know, Angel,” Crowley grumbled when Aziraphale showed it to him. “Could be anyone. Could be one of your customers. Maybe one of them has a thing for rude shopkeepers.”

“I don’t think so,” Aziraphale said, turning the card over to study the pattern of the lace. “There’s something very familiar about it…”

“Familiar?” Crowley demanded sharply.

“I mean, the sender is being very familiar with the recipient. As if they’d known each other a long time.” He ran his finger across the single word. “Perhaps it was misdirected?”

“Nrg.” Crowley shrugged.

In 1842, another envelope arrived. This one held a pre-printed card, a single flower on a pink-and-gold background. A bright red heart, tucked behind a pink ribbon, carried the message:

Paeonia, symbol of happiness sublime

Wilt thou be my Valentine?

More pre-printed cards followed.

In 1843, two birds built a nest, filled with hearts instead of eggs.

In 1846, a couple strolling through a watercolor landscape under the words Valentine Greetings.

In 1849, a little girl in a white dress with a basket of roses, and the words With True Love.

In 1852, the angels started appearing. The first was surrounded by morning glories and gold filigree. Loving Greeting.

1853 brought back the lace and forget-me-nots, surrounding a winged figure wrapped in lace and gauze and little else. With Love and Devotion.

In 1854, a chubby cupid crossed a serene lake in a white-and-gold boat filled with pink roses; a line of white swans bridled with more roses pulled it along. Love’s Message to my Valentine.

“They’re just pre-printed messages,” Crowley pointed out in 1856. “They don’t mean anything. Whoever sent it probably just picked one that looked nice.”

“Oh, no, there’s real feeling behind it, I’m sure. Look at this.” It was the most elaborate yet: white lace, roses, hearts, a dove delivering a heart-covered envelope to a little angel, white ribbon framing a poem, tied in a perfect bow.

Crowley rolled his whole head in an exaggerated gesture. “Trying way too hard,” was all he said.

“Are you jealous?” Aziraphale asked with a grin.

“Jealous? What, that you get sappy misdirected mail? No, I’m fine without.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, studying first Crowley, then the card. “Sixteen years? Without missing one? Surely it must be intentional.”

“Angel, a million of those are sent every year. There has to be some mistakes in all that.”

“Perhaps you’re right…” His eyes ran across the poem one more time.

May this bow of white

Which gives delight

And which I send to you

A token be

Of love divine

Oh, will’t thou be

My Valentine?

“Truly horrible verse,” Crowley muttered. “Does that even scan?”

1857 saw the return of the hand-made cards. Skillfully cut paper, lace, ribbons, flowers – sometimes painted, sometimes embroidered onto linen. Pre-made pieces, painstakingly glued together with endearing imperfection. The messages were short, but hand-written: To My Star. Valentine Greeting. Love Always.

“They have different handwriting,” Crowley pointed out. “Different senders.”

“I suppose,” Aziraphale conceded. “Unless the sender is disguising their handwriting.”

“Wh-what? Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know. But look – all the ribbons are pasted on exactly the same way.”

Crowley squinted at three different cards. “I don’t see it,” he said flatly. “I think it’s your imagination. Do you want a secret admirer?”

“No,” Aziraphale started slowly, glancing at Crowley from the corner of his eyes. “No, on the whole I’d rather have an admirer I knew.”

“Mh. Why do you keep those, anyway?”

“Oh, I love a mystery.” Aziraphale felt the grin slide across his face. “Anonymous cards, mailed to my shop every Valentines Day for almost twenty years? Simply irresistible, wouldn’t you say?”

Crowley, apparently, had nothing at all to say.

In 1862, the poetry returned, pre-printed again but at least somewhat better verse. Around a watercolor that was possibly meant to depict Romeo and Juliet:

I may wander over land and sea

Pass many days away from thee

Yet my heart can never rove

From thee, my own, my love.

Aziraphale professed it was his favorite yet, but Crowley only scowled.

--

The greatest shock was the card that arrived in 1864.

Aziraphale had not expected anything that year. The envelope sat in his hands, as simple and anonymous as all the others. Inside, a heart-shaped card framing an almost embarrassingly cute cat.

This little kitten,

Valentine,

Has come to ask you

To be mine.

He suddenly realized he had made a grave miscalculation. If these cards were still arriving after…after certain recent developments…that could only mean…

Well. At least Crowley was no longer around to realize what a foolish conclusion he’d jumped to.

Another print arrived in 1865, a young lady holding a tulip to her nose.

Oh! Would I were the flower that sips

The honied kisses from your lips.

My Darling Valentine.

The card tumbled from his trembling fingers.

Why? Why did he even bother opening it? Why did he keep them even now?

Aziraphale grabbed all twenty-five Valentine’s Day cards and thrust them into a box. He found a spot on the highest shelf of the bookcase furthest from the door, tucked the box into a corner so gloomy even he could barely spot it. He was absolutely determined to forget any cards had ever arrived.

The envelope that arrived in 1866 was tucked, unopened, into a thick volume of Greek philosophy and pushed back onto a dusty shelf. Aziraphale swore no matter how many more arrived, he would never look.

But, as if a spell were broken, no more Valentines were delivered after that. And the last one remained unopened for over seventy-five years.

Until, two nights after a certain incident in a church, he found it again, hands shaking from the exertion of the search, from the unnamed emotions racing through him.

The card inside was gold and silver lace, simple yet elegant in a way he hadn’t remembered the others being. There was an earnest charm to the way the edges didn’t quite line up to the white paper underneath. In the center, a printed poem, surrounded by hand-painted flowers in more varieties than Aziraphale could name.

Valentine –

Fain would I guard thee through life’s desert drear

And fling around thee love to soothe and cheer

For thee I live might I but call thee mine

I’d be forever thy own Valentine.

He didn’t know how it was possible, but only one being in all Creation would send such a poem.

Aziraphale sat down on the floor of his shop. The tears he’d been holding in for two days finally began to fall.

--

After Crowley woke from his extended nap, he was disgusted to find how the holiday had spiraled out of control, how it only grew worse with every passing decade. Chocolates. Jewelry. Mass-market commercialization. It became a million-pound industry, and eventually a billion-pound one. Where once hopeful lovers could send a chintzy greeting card for a few pennies, the fools now spent a week’s pay – or more – on useless trinkets, somehow convinced it would ensure a return of affection.

And the engagements! The diamond rings, the elaborate proposals.

It was an absolute mockery of the cheap, empty exchange of sentiments he had spent so long cultivating. Was nothing sacred?

He was sure the Americans were to blame.

And yet now, when the holiday was devoid even of the anti-meaning Crowley had worked so hard to endow it with, now Aziraphale took notice? Now he began decorating his shop with angels even more absurd than the ones he usually collected? Now he put vases full of dried flowers on every table – roses and carnations and tulips in pink and red and white?

Every year, the traditions grew worse, yet Aziraphale only embraced the holiday more.

--

The Apocalypse had come and gone. The world had changed. For eight months they’d stood on the cusp of…something.

It was absurd. They each knew how the other felt – there was no denying it at this point – but somehow, after six thousand years, Crowley suddenly couldn’t find a way to say the words. Now it was Aziraphale waiting patiently on him, and if that wasn’t embarrassing, he didn’t know what was.

He just needed the right time. He’d hoped Valentine’s Day could be it.

But here it was, the fourteenth of February, and all Crowley felt was fed up. He couldn’t bring himself to buy the overpriced flowers, the punfully-named treats, even a racy gag gift (of which there was never any shortage in Soho). It just felt…empty.

He walked into the bookshop and prepared to disappoint his angel.

--

Aziraphale had set up a garland of sorts, too, but not paper flowers or bright red crepe paper. Across the two pillars nearest the door – where no one entering the shop could miss them, let alone Crowley – hanging from a string, were twenty-six Victorian Valentine’s Day cards.

Some were handmade – clumsy and uneven. Some were pre-printed – cheap, mass-produced. All were just a little tacky, but in the light of the shop, they seemed to glow with love.

“Ah! You’re here.” Aziraphale emerged with a pile of 19th-century romance novels, which he proceeded to arrange on the front table, to more easily chase customers away from them. “How do you like my decorating?”

“Oh. Uh. You. You kept those.”

“Naturally.” He didn’t even turn away from his task. “They were sent by someone very important to me.”

Crowley gulped. “You worked that out, then?”

“Yes, dear, in 1843.” Aziraphale chuckled, standing a copy of Wuthering Heights on the top of his display.

“Uh…Nh…” Crowley felt his face getting very warm. “You could have said –”

“I assumed, at the time, this was the beginning of some very elaborate prank on your part, and I was curious to see where it might go.”

“You – you said it was a mystery!”

“Yes, that was me playing along.” Satisfied with his display, Aziraphale turned back. “Now, if we’re finally going to talk about this, I do have a question.”

Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. No avoiding this, it seemed. “Fine. Right. I wanted to tell you how I felt, but it was…it was too much. Too big.” He looked at the ceiling as he talked, the walls, anywhere but at the angel who was now watching him with rapt attention. “You’d just reject it, and I didn’t want that kind of…y’know. So I just – I devalued what it means to say…that…on Valentine’s Day. Made it cheap and easy and meaningless so that when I told you, maybe it wouldn’t seem so big. Maybe you’d be able to accept it. Or at least maybe the rejection wouldn’t hurt as much.”

Soft footsteps across the floorboards, and Aziraphale’s hand on his cheek, drawing his face back down to meet that blue gaze.

“I know. I worked that out, oh, seventy years ago.”

“You what?”

“Once I understood how you felt, well, it seemed rather obvious. I also know why it never worked.”

Crowley hadn’t felt this completely lost since the night the world had almost ended. He reached up and grasped Aziraphale’s hand for balance. “Please…enlighten me.”

“Crowley, dear. A meaningless bit of frippery bought for a few pennies? A quiet I love you disguised as a joke? That’s not who you are. You need a big, grand show of affection, a blazing banner across the sky, or it won’t ever feel real to you. So even when I told you I liked the cards, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. The holiday was all wrong.”

“Thanks,” Crowley grumbled.

“Well, I was going to say something when you next sent me a card, only you never did. And so I, well, I decided to encourage the humans to, as you say, ‘go bigger.’ I thought you wouldn’t be able to resist a culture of grand romantic gestures. Only I’m not very subtle and it got rather out of hand.”

Behind his glasses, Crowley blinked.

“So…all – all that,” Crowley waved a hand at the window. “All that was you?”

“Oh, yes.” He smiled apologetically, though the bastard had probably never been sorry a day in his life. “The holiday generally, and also more specifically the state of Soho just now. I’ve been rather giddy lately and it seems to have gone contagious.”

Crowley thought of everything the day had come to mean – the heart-shaped sweets, the over-the-top dinners, flowers that cost as much as an outfit, jewelry that cost as much as a car. Piles of gifts of every description, sky-diving marriage proposals, holiday getaways to Paris or Florence or tiny cottages in snow-filled forests.

“Aziraphale,” he laughed, found he couldn’t stop laughing. “Angel! You…you made a whole holiday of big, stupid, over-the-top romantic gestures for me?”

“Only because you started it.” He slipped his arms around Crowley’s neck, pulling them together, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s hips, pressing their bodies close. The words he wanted to say danced on the edge of his tongue, waiting for the right moment.  Not yet, not yet. Instead he asked, “Didn’t you have a question?”

“Ah, yes. How did you do it?” Aziraphale pulled back enough to look up at his eyes. “The last three cards arrived while you were asleep.”

“Oh! That’s easy enough.” His hands found their way into Aziraphale’s and, without anyone needing to suggest it out loud, they walked together to the back room and the well-worn sofa, where a bottle of wine waited for them. “I didn’t want to lose my nerve, so I would buy and send the cards five at a time. I gave the post office instructions to mail them one per year. I told myself each time, ‘After the last card, I’ll say it out loud.’ But, well, I always wound up buying more cards.”

Aziaphale froze two steps away from the sofa. “Are you saying you haven’t bought me a Valentine since 1861? This is outrageous.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, flinging himself down and pulling Aziraphale after him. “Have you seen what passes for romantic verse these days? Pathetic. I’m not going to pay…five pounds or whatever it is for that nonsense.”

“Mmm.” Aziraphale shifted to lean against him, flashing another bastard smile. “I suppose the card selection has been disappointing lately. Still, an angel likes a little poetry now and again.”

“Poetry, is it?” Crowley pulled off his glasses and tossed them aside so he could meet that breathtaking blue gaze straight on. Caught one of Aziraphale’s hands and held it to his chest.

Women have loved before as I love now;

At least, in lively chronicles of the past –

Of Irish waters by a Cornish prow

Or Trojan waters by a Spartan mast

Much to their cost invaded – here and there,

Hunting the amorous line, skimming the rest,

I find some woman bearing as I bear

Love like a burning city in the breast.

I think however that of all alive

I only in such utter, ancient way

Do suffer love; in me alone survive

The unregenerate passions of a day

When treacherous queens, with death upon the tread,

Heedless and willful, took their knights to bed.

“Oh,” Aziraphale murmured. “Well, that’s hardly appropriate for a card.”

Crowley tried to raise Aziraphale’s hand to his lips, but discovered he was shaking too much. “It’s – You’re probably right. But it’s how I’ve felt. For a very long time.”

Aziraphale pulled his hand back, then leaned in to softly brush his lips against Crowley’s. Hesitant. Shy. But when he finished, he didn’t pull back. Crowley could feel the trembling of Aziraphale’s breath, mirroring his own.

“I love you, too,” his angel whispered. “I hope you know that.”

-- end --

Inspired by the pastries at my local bakery, and by a conversation with @angel-and-serpent 

All the Victorian Valentines described are actual cards (I tried to do all vintage, but some may have been replicas/modern cards in “Victorian” style), slightly altered to be easier to describe. I also changed a word or two where the poetry was especially bad.

The final poem is by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I’ve said many times I default write the Husbands as asexual, but then Crowley goes and picks one of the sexy sonnets, so I guess interpret where things go from there as you see fit. (I’m ace myself and not going to try and deny the power of Millay’s sexy sonnets. Look at that thing. I become 5% more allo and 8% gayer every time I read it.)