#I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been in the green since shortly after it started | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chaos-burst · 3 years ago

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one way or another (i’m gonna get you)

Dorian has a problem.

That problem is currently drunk off his ass and trying to balance one of Opal’s daggers on the tip of his nose. Of course he’s failing miserably, hitting himself in the eye with the blunt end twice thus far and maybe Dorian shouldn’t chuckle about it, but Dariax just keeps trying as Opal and Fearne edge him on.

“If you’re not careful you’ll stab your own eye out”, Orym says. He’s still nursing the same beer he started drinking an hour ago, probably to stay sober enough to stop any shenanigans that go too far.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, buddy. That already happened to me, like, three times, and I just healed it back together. No big deal.”

Dorian can see that Orym is at a loss for words.

“Dorian, do you think I can do it?”, Dariax calls over to him where he’s sitting, holding his lute and enjoying the warm evening breeze.

“Sure, Dariax. I’ll write a song about you if you do”, he says with an amused smile. Dorian tries to keep his smile from widening as Dariax beams at him and tries even harder.

All his life Dorian has been taught to be proper and well behaved—maybe that is why he feels drawn towards—well. Towards the group. The group that Dariax is also a part of and that Dorian definitely doesn’t feel drawn towards more than any of the others.

He starts moving his fingers mindlessly over the strings of his lute as Dariax stumbles backwards, falls over Opal’s outstretched legs and lands in her lap with the dagger clattering to the ground in front of them.

Dorian thinks about Dariax sitting on his lap, then he almost chokes on his own spit because so far Dariax hasn’t done anything even remotely appealing or attractive. He’s had shit on his beard, piss on his hands, he’s dirty and loud and so obnoxious.

But when he told Dorian that he’s the handsome one and that he’s just good at talking to people and whether Dorian wants some tips from him—Dorian was tempted. For a split second, he was thinking about Dariax offering to teach him how to flirt.

Because Dorian might be aware that he’s handsome, but he has exactly zero idea about how to flirt with people.

“Hey, Dorian! Do I still get a song?”, Dariax shouts, still half sitting in Opal’s lap.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll write you a song.”

“Cool! It’s a promise!”, Dariax says, thumbs up, a big grin on his handsome face.

There, Dorian can admit it.

Dariax is handsome. They’re all handsome. It’s really no big deal. Not at all.

Dorian tries not to think about what his parents would say about Dariax, because it’s completely irrelevant. It’s not like his parents will meet his friends, and especially not Dariax. Maybe he should go to bed and hope that come the next morning his circling thoughts will have stopped.

“Are you working on the song?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head, only to come face to face with Dariax who managed to get up from Opal’s lap and is now sitting right next to him, leaning way into Dorian’s personal space.

Dariax smells like ten different kinds of alcohol, leather and thankfully no bodily fluids, which is definitely an improvement. Dorian wishes that the fact that he’s seen this man with shit on his beard would dissuade his heart from beating a little faster every time Dariax grins at him.

Sadly his heart doesn’t care.

Neither does his stomach, which is currently doing all kinds of complicated gymnastics since Dariax invaded Dorian’s personal space.

“No. I don’t think I can concentrate in here while all that is going on”, Dorian says and gestures towards Opal who is now teaching Fearne how to do body shots.

“Aw, man. Can you play something? Something...hm. Something cool.”

“All my songs are cool, thank you very much!”

Dariax laughs.

“Yeah, okay, you’re not wrong there. You have a really beautiful voice, buddy. No wonder that goliath lady fell in love with you after like, three minutes!”

Dorian feels something that reminds him a lot of the feeling he gets when he’s falling or misses a step on some stairs. His heart starts doing an offensive little tumble and he clears his throat a little too loud as he leans out of Dariax’ space and clutches his lute as if his life depends on it.

“I don’t think I would know what to do if someone actually fell in love with me”, Dorian says with an embarrassingly shrill laugh and a second after the words have left his mouth he regrets them already.

“Aw, buddy, I told you—I can totally teach you a few tricks, you know? Just show you how to get real popular with the ladies. Or gents. Or people in general”, Dariax says and winks at him.

Dorian wishes he could turn into thin air. His cheeks feel very hot.

“I—uh. I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not like I really have the time—“

Dariax snorts and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on, Dorian. We’re just hanging out, right? If you wanna get laid, we have plenty of time for that. You should just relax a little more. Okay, so. What’s your type?”

Dorian stares at Dariax for almost thirty seconds before he clears his throat again.

“Uh. I—don’t. Well. Adventurous. Maybe—uh. Maybe brunettes?”

“Adventurous brunettes? That’s pretty vague, buddy. Just saying. Wait a second!”

Dariax leans closer again and puts his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Then he does a terrible shout-whisper into Dorian’s ear that shouldn’t give him goosebumps but, fuck, it definitely does.

“Are you into Orym?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head to stare at Dariax who looks as if he just found out an earth-shattering secret through some careful investigation.

“N—no! No, he’s not. I mean, Orym is—fine? I don’t, uh—what I meant to say is... I don’t really know what my type is”, he ends lamely.

Of course Dariax feels the need to put an arm around Dorian now.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you laid in no time. You have a pretty face and voice and all that, pretty sure that’ll go easy peasy.”

“That’s really not—“

“Hey guys, what are you whispering about?”, Opal shouts.

“We’re trying to figure out what Dorian’s type is to get him laid!”, Dariax shouts back.

“No, that’s not—“

“Ohh! Interesting! You don’t have a type? Did you never have a relationship before? Wait—are you like, a virgin?”

Dorian abruptly gets up from his chair. He’s definitely not drunk enough for this.

“I’m going to bed”, he says and leaves the room in a hurry, ignoring the disappointed shouts of his new friends following him outside.

Dorian hopes that his friends have forgotten the whole thing about supposedly getting him laid and about how Dariax intends to teach him flirting. But unfortunately the universe decides to not do him this favor.

Suddenly, every remotely attractive person they pass invokes a whole litany of questions.

Opal, Fearne and Dariax want to know everything. Which height, body-type, eye color, temperament, and style of clothing does he like? Does he prefer any genders to others? On six different occasions, Dariax tries to wingman Dorian into asking random strangers on dates.

Dorian is so desperate that he considers just telling them that he actually has someone back home, just so they will leave him alone.

It wouldn’t be the first lie he told.

Dorian feels a pang of guilt for lying about his name to these people who keep fighting alongside him.

Orym, bless his soul, is the only person who doesn’t partake in these interrogations and at some point, after Opal had asked Dorian if he was more into “tits or asses” Orym had quietly stated that “he deserves his privacy, you guys”.

Dorian has no idea if he’s a “tits or asses” kinda guy.

But Dorian just can’t stop thinking about the way Dariax’ voice sounded when it lilted “Man, you have the prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen” the last time they were drunk.

It seems weirdly typical and ridiculous that Dorian has to have his first crush on the most chaotic man he ever met.

Dorian wishes he could forget about those damn words, just like everything that happened in their first week.

“You know”, Orym says to him two nights after that cursed conversation as they’re making their way further south towards Byroden, “if you told them to stop in earnest, I think they would respect that.”

The landscape is a carpet of green, sloping hills, rolling fields that lie bare now that winter is closing in around them. The sky is blue and cloudless and as they talk their breath puffs up in front of their faces and vanishes shortly after.

Dorian looks at Orym and then pointedly turns his gaze at Opal and Dariax, who started making a list of their findings regarding Dorian’s type.

“You sure?”, he says with one eyebrow raised.

Orym looks at least as pained as Dorian feels right now.

“I see your point. But they’re not—you know. Not bad people, I guess. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“Well, they’re not hurting me, they’re annoying me to death!”

Orym pats him on the back in a way that is so pitiful, Dorian can hardly take it.

“I wouldn’t usually encourage lying, but maybe you could just make up a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or—“

“What if I just tell them that you’re my type”, Dorian interrupts and Orym blinks at him.

“Uh—“

“No offense, you’re not. Not that you’re not handsome or anything, I just. Well—“

“It’s fine”, Orym says with a snort and shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “You don’t have to fuss about it. You’re also very handsome but not my type.”

Dorian tries not to be offended after the last kick to his ego in Gilmore’s shop and clears his throat.

“Okay, so. What about it? Will you be my—I don’t know. My fake boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Orym, I’m desperate here!”

“I will not be swept up in all of that. I still think you should just try to talk to them.”

Dorian feels betrayed and huffs, but he doesn’t press the issue any further. It’s probably going to be fine, he thinks. That is, until Dariax walks up to him, grins up at him cheekily and bumps his elbow into Dorian’s side.

“So. Are you finally ready to admit it?”, Dariax asks.

There is a glint in his eyes that Dorian can’t quite read.

“Admit what?”, he asks, already dreading the answer.

“That you have the hots for Orym!”

Dorian stares down at Dariax, the man he, so, so very unfortunately has “the hots for” and sighs deeply.

“You caught me”, he says with a gravelly voice. “I have the hots for Orym.”

“I knew it!”, Dariax shouts, then catches himself and turns his voice into a whisper instead. “I fucking knew it!”

Dorian massages his temple.

Maybe becoming an adventurer was a terrible idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. He could make a name for himself somewhere else. The Menagerie coast is supposed to be lovely all year around.

“Okay, don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha. I’ll keep your secret, won’t even tell the girls at all. And you know what, because we’re such great friends I have a special offer just for you”, Dariax says and leans in even closer to Dorian, who has to lean down significantly.

“And what offer is that?”, Dorian asks with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate. At least Orym knows that Dorian isn’t actually attracted to him, so, he thinks, this can’t possibly get any worse.

“I should totally be your fake boyfriend so you can make him jealous.”

Dorian stares at Dariax.

Dariax stares back with the proudest grin on his handsome face.

The universe is trying to punish him. For whatever reason, it must have decided to make Dorian the butt of a cosmic joke. That’s the only explanation for all of this.

“I don’t think that’s—“

“It’s perfect! Don’t worry, I have experience with this sort of stuff, just lemme handle this.”

Dariax winks at Dorian and then grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Hey guys”, he calls as he pulls Dorian along who follows helplessly, his heart stumbling in his chest as his consciousness zooms in on the feeling of Dariax’ hand in his, “guess what. I should’ve clocked it all along, but of course it makes perfect sense! Check it out!”

And as Orym, Opal and Fearne turn their heads, Dariax raises their intertwined fingers and beams at the others.

“Wait…”, Orym starts slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion, “what…?”

“Too late, Orym. He’s my boyfriend now”, Dariax says and Dorian wishes that the wind would just pick him up and carry him away.

Dorian has to say something.

He can’t, under any circumstances, keep this up.

He is sitting—and gods, his heart is beating so terribly fast—on Dariax’ lap.

Dariax had insisted on it and now his muscular arms are wound around Dorian’s waist as if this is the most normal thing in the world. For someone who doesn’t actually have to breathe to survive, Dorian feels a little bit like he’s suffocating from the staccato inside his rib cage.

They made camp close to a rock formation that, according to Fearne, looks like a pig with wings. The night smells of snow, but Dorian feels hot despite the cold.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He knows it even less when Dariax’ hand finds one of his and just casually starts rubbing circles into the back of his hand with a thumb. Dorian can feel Orym’s eyes on them and sadly that edges Dariax on even more because he thinks his plan is working.

“You know”, Dariax says and sounds way too casual about it, “I can’t believe how lucky I got. Pretty sure you’re the most beautiful person I’ve been with so far, Dorian.”

“I—uh”, Dorian says, then somehow forgets how to speak. His cheeks feel incredibly hot even though he doesn’t sit remotely close to the fire.

Orym cocks his head and suddenly his eyes turn a little too wide for Dorian’s tastes.

Dorian doesn’t want anyone to understand anything about this disaster.

“Well, I would certainly love a boyfriend who tells me nice things like that”, Opal sighs dreamily. “Or—you know. Maybe a girlfriend. Who knows. I certainly don’t.”

She laughs a little too shrilly but Dorian doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about it anymore because a tingling sensation is running through his body and crawling along the underside of his skin as Dariax’ fingers just keep on gently, way too gently, drawing nonsensical symbols and circles on Dorian’s hand.

“Well, I just know what’s good. I make a great boyfriend”, Dariax announces with a smug undertone to his voice. The sad thing is that Dorian can’t even disagree.

So far, Dariax has been nothing but—well. There is no other word for it. Gentle and accommodating. He also started flirting with Dorian and his flirting only ever got tasteless twice during the last twenty-four hours.

He has offered to carry stuff for Dorian, held his hand, given him way too many compliments for Dorian’s poor heart to handle, helped him climb over some rocks and purposefully took a hit for Dorian in combat earlier today while shouting “Not my boyfriend, you ash-hole!”.

If someone had told him that Dariax makes good boyfriend material, Dorian would have scoffed at them.

But now.

Well.

Now he’s in even deeper shit, because this doesn’t help his feelings at all. It does the exact opposite of helping.

Gods, Dorian wishes he could kiss him.

“Well, I am certainly—uh. Happy? For you two”, Orym says with a pointed look at Dorian. Dorian tries to tell Orym that this wasn’t his idea with his eyes alone, that this is the worst, that Dorian definitely needs saving, but he doesn’t think anything gets across because the moment that Orym says that and looks at Dorian, Dariax seems to decide that he can’t have Orym looking at Dorian like that.

Dorian makes an embarrassing screeching sound as he is dipped backwards on Dariax’ lap. There is a very handsome, dwarven face with glinting eyes right in front of his when he opens his eyes again.

“Just go along”, Dariax whispers and before Dorian can protest or even just try to catch up with what’s happening, there are dry, warm lips pressed against his mouth and Dariax is closing his eyes.

Dorian’s brain is blank for a few seconds, then it kicks into overdrive, much like his heart that seems eager to jump right out of his chest and into the campfire. Dorian can’t fault it, because he, too, would love to jump into the campfire, never to be seen again.

Dariax is holding him with one arm while his other hand is resting on Dorian’s cheeks where Dariax’ thumb starts rubbing circles again as he kisses Dorian.

Dorian wants to run away.

He wants to kiss back.

He wants this to be real.

Dariax doesn’t actually want to kiss him. He only does it because he’s pretending, there is nothing real about any of this, no matter how nice and exciting his warm lips feel against Dorian’s.

Dorian pushes him away, clambers up from his position, trying very hard not to fall as he stands up, and steps away from Dariax hastily.

“I—ah. I need to. Pee. Yes. Pee. I’ll be—uh. Later!”

And he walks as fast as he can without breaking into a run.

His lips are still burning after he stops walking without even seeing where he’s going. It’s dumb. All of this is so incredibly dumb.

Beautiful eyes, beautiful voice, beautiful person.

Dariax really has to stop saying these things.

It’s already enough that Dorian developed this stupid crush after such a short amount of time on the road. It’s stupid that it had to be Dariax of all people—couldn’t it have been someone reasonable? Like Orym?

Couldn’t it just have been no one? Or a nice, noble lady that he impressed with his songs and good looks?

No.

He’s standing in the middle of nowhere, his heart beating rapidly in his chest with no clue where he even is or what he’s doing. The trees around him are leafless and bare, stretching towards the dark sky like skeletal silhouettes. Dorian doesn't know what to do.

Dariax kissed him.

He had his first kiss with a complete and utter maniac of a person. His lips are still tingling and gods, he wants to kiss him again and again and again—

“Dorian! Doriaaan!”

Dorian turns around and wipes at his face that feels weirdly wet.

Gods, he hates everything and everyone right now.

Dariax comes to a halt in front of him, his breath coming quickly and holding his compass rose.

“Okay—wow. Your legs. Are so. Long. You’re so. Fucking fast”, Dariax huffs and puts his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

Dorian looks at him and can’t decide whether he wants to kick Dariax in the shin or just run away further.

“So, uh—sorry. I got a little carried away and I kinda—uh. It was brought to my attention that it wasn’t very cool of me to just kiss you without asking if that’s okay with you. So—uh. Really sorry about that, shoulda thought about that before I—uh. You know.”

Dariax scratches the back of his head as he looks down at Dorian’s left knee.

“It’s—well. Yeah, I suppose a little warning would have been nice. It’s—uh.”

Dorian stops and wipes at his face again and when he looks back up Dariax is studying him, his gaze intense and uncharacteristically serious.

“Wait—wait a second. Was that your first kiss?”

“No! I mean. Yes! Sort of! Maybe!”

Dariax gapes and Dorian wishes the earth could swallow him up whole.

“Oh fuck, buddy, man, that’s. I’m really sorry, I didn’t—damn. I really fucked that one up, huh?”

Dariax looks so earnestly mortified at what he’s done that Dorian can already feel how he’s forgiving him, how he finds it endearing, how his heart swells in his chest like the idiot that it is.

“It’s not such a big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just—uh. Maybe we should talk about all of this stuff before… you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally. I swear I’m usually not a creep or anything, it was just… you know. The heat of the moment, or something. So…”

Dariax is scratching the back of his head again and swallows before he shoots Dorian a lopsided grin.

“So. No kissing and stuff like that, huh? Just the hand-holding? Hey, maybe a hug or something?”

Dorian stares at him and he could swear that Dariax’ cheeks are a little redder than before, which, Dorian supposes, comes from his embarrassment about his earlier fuck-up.

As long as they’re doing this fake-boyfriend gig, Dorian could kiss Dariax whenever he wants. Because apparently Dariax doesn’t mind that one little bit. He might never get the chance again to kiss him if he says no now.

So Dorian does something incredibly stupid and impulsive and maybe it’s even a real ash-hole move. In this tiny moment in time he decides to be selfish.

“Kissing is fine. Uh—you know. You’re not that bad at it, I guess”, he says and laughs which sounds terribly false in his own ears but Dariax perks up and throws him a reckless grin that makes Dorian’s heart stumble in his chest.

“Ha! You just wait for it, I’ll kiss your brains out before you know it!”

Dorian might be addicted.

He knows that this is all a ruse based on a misunderstanding but gods, kissing Dariax is so good.

And Dariax somehow makes it seem as if he’s just as into it as Dorian is, because he keeps kissing him all the time. Of course, it never happens when they’re alone and only when Orym is in more or less close proximity but if Dorian isn’t careful he’ll start believing that they’re actually boyfriends sooner than later.

Dariax is so good at pretending.

He kisses Dorian as if he never wants to kiss anyone else. He holds Dorian’s face in his hands as if it’s something precious. He kisses Dorian breathless and at more than one point Dorian had to stop him because he was getting a little too into it and he’s afraid of overstepping any boundaries.

Dariax promised that he would kiss Dorian’s brains out and it’s absolutely working. On the seventh day on their journey south they get so caught up in making out that they don’t realize that the others have gone to find a camping place for the night.

“We should—uh. Probably follow them”, Dorian croaks and stares down at Dariax’ lips.

“Hmhm. Yeah. Probably a good idea”, Dariax mumbles. Then he kisses Dorian again.

Dorian gets lost in the sensation of tongues sliding against one another and the feeling of Dariax’ hand cupping his cheeks. Dorian slides his hands into Dariax’ hair and buries his fingers in there, something that provokes a sound from Dariax. A sound that gives Dorian goosebumps all over his arms.

He wants to hear it again. He wants to touch more. He wants, he wants, he wants—

Dariax pulls back, his eyes glassy, his breathing labored.

“I—uh. Ha. I got a little carried away. Sorry. What do you say about checking where the others went?”

“Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Let’s go.”

He steps away from Dariax and stuffs his hands into his pockets to keep Dariax from reaching for them. This is a complete and utter disaster.

Dorian knows that he should stop it.

He shouldn’t abuse Dariax’ trust like this and keep up his pretense when all that Dariax wants is to help Dorian make Orym jealous.

Which has, of course, not worked in the slightest, but Dariax insists that it’s just because Orym is such a rational and level-headed guy.

“We just need to wear him thin, you know.”

Dorian doesn’t know.

He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore.

When they finally reach the campsite, Fearne has placed her head in Opal’s lap and seems to be napping as Opal carefully braids her long, green hair.

“You guys alright?”, Orym asks with his eyebrows raised. Dorian feels himself flush and clear his throat.

“More than alright”, Dariax answers and winks. The implication makes Dorian’s cheeks heat up even more.

He didn’t think that Orym’s eyebrows could climb even higher, but that’s exactly what happens as he regards the two of them.

“Dorian, can I talk to you for a second?”, Orym asks and gets up from the log he was sitting on. Dorian shoots Dariax a glance and he seems… off.

Dariax doesn’t return Dorian’s look, he just walks over to the fire, lets himself fall down next to Opal and asks, way too loudly to be necessary “So what’s for dinner?”.

But Dorian doesn’t have any time to think more about this, because Orym grabs his wrist and pulls him towards a group of trees, away from the campfire and away from Dariax whose eyes seem to bore themselves into the back of Dorian’s head as he follows Orym into the night.

“What are you doing?”

Dorian doesn’t have to ask what Orym means. He wrings his hands and stares at the ground.

“I—uh. I don’t really... I don’t really know?”

“So when you said adventurous and brunette, what you actually meant was short, stocky and a complete disaster?”

“I—um...”

Orym looks at him with raised eyebrows and despite the fact that Dorian is so much taller than him he suddenly feels very small.

“Well. Dariax kind of got it into his head that I’m into you. Which I’m not.”

“Yes, we established that.”

“Exactly. And. Well, he thought it would be a good idea to be fake boyfriends to make you jealous.”

Orym’s eyebrows rise even higher towards his hairline.

“But I’m not jealous. Because you and I are just friends.”

“I know, okay? It just kinda got out of hand?He’s so—I don’t know! I don’t know what to do!”

Orym sighs and rubs his temples.

“So. You’re actually into Dariax?”, he asks.

Dorian presses his lips together and takes a deep breath before he nods.

“And he doesn’t know. He thinks you’re into me?”

Dorian nods again.

“And now he’s waiting for me to get jealous and for us two to be boyfriends?”

Dorian shrugs helplessly.

“Isn’t that... I don’t know. It seems like lying to him.”

“What do you want me to do? Just tell him that I have the hots for him and then leave the country forever?”, Dorian hisses.

“Well, maybe he has the hots for you, too!”, Orym whispers back and Dorian can’t help but laugh. It sounds a little hysterical.

“Then why would he offer to help me to get with you?”

Orym stares at Dorian for a full thirty seconds. Then he sighs.

“I guess it’s a little hard to... fathom... what goes on in Dariax’ head.”

“That seems like an understatement.”

Orym scoffs and shakes his head with half a smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for—that.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I guess to each their own.”

“So what’s your type then?”

“Uh—I don’t really have a type. I’m not into the whole relationship stuff. Or—uh. The sex stuff, for that matter.”

“Oh. Oh! I see. Well, that seems pretty convenient. Way less stressful than what I’m doing with my life.”

Orym smiles and shakes his head again.

“I’m not going to lie, when I’m watching you and Dariax or Opal and Fearne I am glad that I don’t have to deal with any of it”, Orym admits.

“Opal and Fearne? How do you mean?”, Dorian asks. His brain is still stuck on kissing Dariax without Orym even being in any close proximity. His whole brain capacity seems to be occupied by thinking about Dariax. It’s an absolute clusterfuck.

“Never mind. So, what do you intend to do? You can’t keep this up forever”, Orym says and pulls Dorian away from a trail of thoughts that was leading towards something explicit and utterly unbefitting of a talk with a good friend about feelings.

“I—uh. I’m still figuring it out. I’ll just. You know, I could just tell him that I’m not into you anymore and then he would probably stop”, Dorian says and ignores the uncomfortable tightness of his chest as he thinks about not being able to kiss Dariax anymore. Or hold his hand. Or being told that he’s beautiful.

He’s so fucked.

“I think you should just tell him, you know? We’re adventurers now, no one knows what might happen. If I learned anything from our Voice of the Tempest, it’s that you should do your best to live without any regrets, because time is a precious thing”, Orym says.

“A weird soup”, Dorian answers, his voice weak and his heart hurting. Orym snorts.

“Yes, sure. A weird, precious soup. Anyway. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Something is up with Dariax.

Dorian has no idea what it is, but there is definitely something wrong.

He’s quieter than usual, which is disconcerting. He’s also, very definitely, holding onto Dorian’s hand way tighter than before.

“Hey, is everything alright?”, Dorian asks him quietly as they’re getting ready for the night. The sky overhead is dark and full of clouds and the moon is barely visible.

“Yeah, sure. Stellar”, Dariax says but he’s not looking at Dorian.

“You don’t look stellar”, Dorian insists and puts his hand on Dariax’ shoulder. Dariax’ eyes flicker down to his hand and then up to his face. Dariax opens his mouth to answer, but Dorian doesn’t hear anything because there is a searing pain on his back and he slumps forward and crumples onto his knees.

His vision goes blurry from the pain and he can feel that there is something coursing through his body. It hurts.

“Dorian? Dorian!”

Lying down seems like a great idea. What if he dies now and he didn’t even tell Dariax that he’s not into Orym? What if his adventure ends here already? He doesn’t want to sink into the weird soup that is time already. He wants…

“Take your hands off my boyfriend, you fuckers!”

“Hey! What’s going on?”

“Dorian, are you okay?”

He is definitely not okay and while he probably should have different priorities as he’s bleeding out in the grass, all he can think about is the fact that Dariax just called him his boyfriend.

“Dorian, are you okay?”, Dariax’ voice sounds muffled and far away.

“Heh. You’re really good at pretending”, he lulls as he’s turned onto his back to look up at Dariax’ face.

“What? Guys, I think he has a concussion or something!”

“Well, heal him!”

“I’m trying! Dorian, hey! Buddy, don’t pass out on me, okay?”

“Did you know that your eyes are really pretty?”, Dorian slurs and he wants to raise a hand to touch Dariax’ face that seems way too red all of a sudden, but he can’t move a muscle and as he feels Dariax’ warm healing magic flow into him, he passes out from the mind-numbing pain.

Dorian has never shared a bed with anyone. Neither in a platonic nor in a romantic or sexual way.

When he wakes up there is someone plastered to his side. The quiet snoring tells him that it must be Dariax.

“Are you okay, Dorian?”, Fearne’s soft voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to see her sit on his other side, her hand places closed to his shoulder as if to make sure that he’s within reach.

“Uh—ow. Yeah. What happened?”

Dorian tries to concentrate on his own body and on Fearne’s words, but he’s distracted by the feeling of Dariax sleeping so close to him. His arm is thrown over Dorian’s chest and his face is pressed into Dorian’s shoulder. Orym is nowhere to be seen.

“Those Nameless Ones seem to have a pretty far reach. They really want that spider crown.”

Dorian groans as he tries to move.

“They hit me with poison or something?”

“Yeah. Dariax fixed it. Then he insisted on carrying you back to the cart. Then he insisted to tuck you into bed. And then he just sort of flopped down next to you and stared at you really intensely until he passed out.”

Dorian tries to laugh but almost chokes on it as he imagines this short man trying to carry someone as tall as Dorian. His thoughts circle around the fact that Dariax cared for him, healed him, tucked him into bed.

“So. Ah—where are Orym and Opal?”, he asks to distract himself from the feeling of having Dariax pressed so close to him.

“They’re checking to see if we’ll be safe for the night. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Fearne smiles down at him and starts scratching Little Mister under the chin as she hums a melody that Dorian’s never heard before.

“Did you ever have a really dumb crush?”, he asks before he can stop himself. Fearne turns her head to look at him again and cocks her head.

“A crush that was dumb because it wasn’t mutual or a crush that was dumb because the person was dumb?”, she wants to know.

“Ah. Huh—I haven’t thought about it that way. I guess… how about we go with both?”

Fearne puts her index fingers to her lips and cocks her head from side to side as she thinks about it.

“Well, I don’t think crushes are dumb just because they aren’t mutual. And I also think that Opal is very intelligent in her own, special way.”

Dorian blinks.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“You have a crush on Opal?”

“Sure. I thought it was pretty obvious”, Fearne says and smiles dreamily.

“Uh—maybe. Now that you mention it, I think Orym clocked it.”

“She is just. You know. Very exciting and spontaneous and funny and creative and pretty.”

The way that Fearne just talks about her crush makes Dorian wonder why he isn’t able to just say it like this. That he likes Dariax because he’s funny and brave and adventurous and a complete idiot in a lovable kind of way.

“What do you like about Dariax?”, Fearne wants to know.

“Uh—well”, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. Dariax is still softly snoring into his shoulder. “I guess… I guess pretty much everything?”

“That’s so sweet! And that’s what he said too. You guys just fit so well”, Fearne says with an earnest smile.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that you guys fit really well.”

“No. No, I meant before that.”

“Uh—well, when I asked him what he liked most about you, he also said that he likes everything about you. I thought it was really sweet, you know? There was a whole list of things, but he stopped midway through it and said ‘So basically, everything’.”

There was a whole list of things.

A list.

“So basically, everything.”

“Dorian? Are you really okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Hm? Oh—yeah. I’m fine. Perfect. Peachy. Never better.”

He laughs nervously and glances over at Dariax as his insides dissolve into small, hyperactive butterflies. Maybe it’s not what he thinks. Maybe Dariax meant that he likes everything about Dorian as a friend.

“If you’re sure you’re okay I think I’ll stretch my legs a little bit. This cart is pretty small”, Fearne says and scoots towards the exit of the cart. Little Mister follows behind her and a moment later Dorian is alone with a snoring Dariax, whose hand has somehow managed to sneak under Dorian’s shirt.

What is he supposed to do now?

Wake Dariax up? Confess his feelings?

His heart beats so quickly that Dorian is almost afraid that it might just leap out of his rib cage. In the end he’s not brave enough to wake Dariax up and instead intertwines their fingers and turns his head to look at Dariax who has definitely drooled onto his shirt.

He knows that he’s completely fucked because he thinks that this is endearing.

Dorian raises his arm and gently cards his hand through Dariax’ hair.

Dariax makes a small sound in his sleep, something that sounds like a content sigh, and the butterflies in Dorian’s stomach start dancing happily.

“D’you really think my eyes are pretty?”, Dariax mumbles a second later and Dorian pulls his hand away hastily as Dariax’ eyes open.

“Um—well. Yeah. They’re… they have a very nice color”, Dorian croaks. Dariax pulls his hand out from under Dorian’s shirt and starts rubbing at his eyes.

“You okay again?”

“Yeah. Thank you for saving me. And carrying me to the cart. And—uh. Tucking me in.”

Dariax’ cheeks redden as he coughs slightly before sitting up.

“Well, you know. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”, Dariax says with half a laugh in his voice that doesn’t sound completely genuine.

Dorian swallows and bites his bottom lip as he tries to find the words. He’s usually not bad at talking, so why does this seem so endlessly hard?

“So—uh. I have something to confess”, he starts as his thoughts start spinning around in panicked circles. Dariax turns his head to look down at him.

“I know, I know”, he answers.

“Huh?”

“Well, I figured, you know. When Orym dragged you away I thought you guys probably had a talk?”

“We did, yeah”, Dorian says but he is endlessly confused about what that has to do with anything.

“See, I knew it. So you think it finally started working, huh? Told you, I’m really good at this kind of stuff.”

Dorian decides that he has to sit up for this. His head is spinning and his heart is racing and he is endlessly confused about what in the ever-loving hell is going on.

“Working? What are you talking about?”

“You know, the jealousy thing.”

Dorian stares at him.

Then it finally clicks.

“Dariax… I don’t want to be fake boyfriends anymore”, he says quietly before he can think of a better way to say it. Dariax’ expression twists and he looks away, his hand reaching for the back of his head to scratch at his scalp—a sign for nervousness, as Dorian knows by now.

“Yeah. Okay. I—uh. That’s—“

“I want to be your real boyfriend.”

Dariax blinks a few times. Then his face turns the deepest shade of red that Dorian has ever seen on him.

“You—what?”

“I don’t like Orym. I never have. Not like that. I—uh. I like you. And when—if—I kiss you again I don’t want it to be just pretend, I want to really kiss you. Because I—uh. I really like kissing you.”

Dariax is still staring at him, seemingly stunned. The hand at the back of his head has stopped moving and started to sink slowly back into Dariax’ lap.

“So…”, Dorian says and the nervous energy humming under his skin is almost unbearable, “can I? Can I… kiss you? For real?”

If Dariax doesn’t say anything soon Dorian might have to flee from the cart and actually leave the country. The suspense is torturous, his words hang heavy in the air between them. And then, faster than Dorian can react, Dariax lounges himself at Dorian and kisses him so passionately that Dorian can’t suppress the moan that escapes him.

Dariax pushes at him, shoves Dorian back down onto the bedroll, sinks one hand into Dorian’s long hair and cups his face with the other.

Dorian’s brain goes blank as he arches up against Dariax’ weight on top of him.

“So, is that a yes?”, he pants into the kiss.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes”, Dariax rasps and kisses him again. “Gods, you’re so pretty. I thought I was going to go insane.”

Dorian makes a very embarrassing noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Maybe he likes those compliments more than a normal person would.

“So you like me?”

“Are you kidding me? So fucking much.”

Dariax is kissing his whole face now and Dorian wraps his arms around him. He feels light as a feather and the butterflies in his stomach have gone completely off the rails.

“Are you guys decent?”, Opal shouts from outside the cart.

“No! Go away! I want to make out with my boyfriend!”, Dariax shouts back and Dorian laughs.

“Don’t leave any icky spots though!”, Opal says.

“Oh, come on”, Dorian hears Orym protest.

“That’s what Prestidigitation is for, Opal! Read a book about magic!”, Dariax announces loudly and Dorian has no time to protest this obscene exchange because Dariax is kissing him again and Orym seems to be dragging Opal away from the cart.

“So do you know what that means?”, Dorian mumbles against Dariax’ lips.

“Hm?”

“I don’t need any flirting lessons from you after all.”

#critfic #exandria unlimited #exu #exu fic #dorian storm #dariax zaveon #fanfiction #mi writes #critical role #doriax #text #screeching into the void #this is 7k words of chaotic fake dating ooops

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 4)

i hope yall enjoyed the last part, we took a sudden and quite dirty turn ther,e but we are heading down romantic street and its all sweet and cute with a little hotness. let me know what you thought about the part!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 4.7k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Harry Styles managed to leave quite the impression in you following his late night visit after the Emmys. He surely surprised you with not only the unbelievable orgasm he gave you with his talented fingers, but also with how big of a gentleman he really was, so keen on taking you out on a date first before he would kiss you. The timeline got a little messed up and he did apologize before he left at two in the morning for getting too carried away, but you assured him he didn’t do anything you didn’t want him to. To be honest, you wouldn’t have had a word against him kissing you right away, but you liked the respect he had for you, not something you’ve had plenty of lately. The men you dealt with in the past year were eager to get into your pants without the respect part, only hungry to earn fame through you, trying to blind you with sex so you wouldn’t realize their ugly motives.

This was not a threat when it came to Harry, he was just as famous as you, maybe even more. He had his own career, his own money, his own life apart from yours and he clearly wasn’t trying to use you and it was quite a refreshing change for you.

He stayed and the two of you talked so much, just sharing crazy stories from your life before and after fame, enjoying that you had someone who shared more or less the same background as you. Apart from Florence, you pretty much kept your old friends when your career took off, afraid to make new ones, always feeling a little paranoid that new people would have unholy motives when they try to befriend you.

Though you truly love your friends, they don’t really see behind the life you are living, while Harry completely does. His company is the best you’ve had in a long time, he is able to make you completely forget about everything outside the room you two are in.

You tried your best to hide your disappointment when he left that night. After offering him to stay in one of your guest bedrooms, he politely turned it down, and even though you could tell he wanted to stay, the urge to be a gentleman was greater in him, something you admire him for.

He left with the promise to see you soon on a real date and he got you as excited as a little school girl on the day of a fieldtrip.

However, given the lifestyles you two were living, finding a suitable evening for the both of you turns out to be a bigger struggle than you expected. Harry reaches out right the next day after his little visit. A good morning text waits for you by the time you open your eyes in the noon and by the evening he asks you out, however you have to realize the date has to wait a little.

You have two trip outside the city upcoming in the next two weeks and he is also planning to fly back to London for a while, the trips totally crashing in the timeline, not even having just the smallest window that would fit the both of you.

Accepting the fact that it would have to wait a little longer, you keep in close touch, eager to find the date that would finally be suitable for you and him as well. Endless texts, sweet calls and sneaky FaceTimes scatter through the days you spend apart and you find it hard to think of a time when he wasn’t hitting you up all the time.

On a Thursday evening, after a long day of fittings for upcoming events, you find yourself sitting on your couch with a sweet glass of wine, scrolling through your social media feeds when something catches your eyes.

Harry has been away in Los Angeles in the past few days and he mentioned having an interview the other day, but you didn’t think it would be out so soon, but here it was, a short video clip cut out by some random page that had a rather interesting title.

“Harry Styles talks about next album and mystery girl in his life.”

Your curiosity is way too strong not to click on it and have a look at it, so taking a sip from your wine you tap on the link and let the video load.

“It’s been some time since your last album came out, have you been working on new music lately?” the interviewer asked from behind the camera as Harry sat on a lilac sofa, wearing black high-waisted pants with a pink and white floral printed shirt tugged into it, his suspenders topping the look perfectly. His green eyes are fixed on the person asking him as he nods.

“Yeah, I think I never really stop making new music. I do have sessions when I’m trying to put a new album together, but I also write in the meantime as well, whenever I have an idea or inspiration. I don’t hold back,” he adds with a cheeky smile.

“Have you found any inspiration lately?” the question is heard and Harry nods once again.

“I have, actually,” he answers shortly, but his smirk gives it away that there’s a lot more behind his words and you feel your heart flutter in your chest. Is he talking about you?

“Has it been a person?” the reporter inquires, making Harry’s smile grow wider.

“A lot of things and people inspire me.”

“Alright, and is your latest inspiration something or someone new in your life?” the guy tries again, even though it’s well known that Harry likes to give vague answers instead of straight yeses and nos.

“Kind of new,” he simply answers and the reporter realizes he won’t be sharing more about the topic so he moves on with the next question and the video cuts out right there.

Though it wasn’t mentioned that he was talking about someone in particular, his fans drew the assumption that he is definitely seeing someone who has been his inspiration behind his new music. Feeling bold and a little flirty, you open up your messages and send him a quick text.

“A kind of new inspiration, huh?”

His reply comes almost right away, as always.

“Have you been stalking fanpages about me?”

“Would it be weird?”

“From you? It’s flattering. Little scary, but in a good way.”

You can’t help but chuckle reading his words. He never fails to make you laugh, you find his humor your favorite kind, never hurtful, but a little spicy, if you could say that, a lot of irony laced into it.

“Back to the topic: what’s your inspiration? Or should I ask… who is your inspiration?”

“Not gonna beat around the bush and just admit it…”

You wait and wait… and wait, but nothing comes afterwards and you are dying to have him admit that it’s been you, but not even the three dots appear at the bottom, so you take the lead again.

“Well, do it. Admit it, Styles!”

The fucker likes your message right away, meaning he has been in the thread all along, waiting for you to write something.

“Alright, but don’t tell anyone, because she is kinda famous and I don’t want the media to find out about it.”

“You have my silence.”

You watch the three dots dance at the bottom, holding your breath while you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to contain your wide grin that’s been plastered across your face this whole time.

When the text finally arrives you snort loudly, almost spilling your wine, laughing so hard you are happy you don’t like in a tiny apartment anymore with paper walls, because your neighbor would have definitely heard your laughter all the way down the hallway.

“It’s Betty White. Fuck, she is all I can think about.”

You need a minute to stop the laughter and type your reply.

“She is hot, gotta give you that.”

“Right?? I hope she is not afraid to date younger guys though.”

“I’m sure she would make an exception for you.”

“I hope so too.”

There’s a short pause, where you just read back his lines, chuckling to yourself some more. He always has a witty comment or comeback, no matter what you’re talking about and not once has he made you laugh madly on a set, at a meeting or just lying in bed before going to sleep.

“Joke aside, would it scare you away if I said I have definitely written about you?”

“Is this another theoretical question? Like the one you asked me on Ellen?”

You smile to yourself thinking back at the conversation the two of you had on the show when he was trying to figure out if you’d be up to give him your number.

“Maybe. So theoretically, would that be weird to you?”

“No,” you write, but quickly send another text. “But you know, it’s just theory. You’d have to tell me for real to find out.”

“Should have saw that coming…”

“Yeah, you really should have,” you muse to yourself, finishing up your glass and you carefully put it to your coffee table before sliding further down on the couch to get back to the conversation with Harry. You see that he hasn’t sent anything after his last one, so you decide to actually answer his question.

“Joke aside from my part, I wouldn’t find it weird. I think it’s flattering.”

“Okay, because I was ready to burn all my notes if you said it would be too much.”

“What if you’d be burning a Grammy worthy song though?”

“Would be a shame. But I would still burn it for you.”

“You are such a flirt…”

“Can’t help it! Or should I not be?”

“I like it. So don’t change.”

“Noted.”

Your little conversation has to come to an end since he is about to go into a meeting, but when you say your goodbyes and decide it’s time to head to bed, you already know a text will be waiting for you when you wake up in the morning.

Days and even weeks go by and you start to have a little too much on your plate. No matter how much you love your job and that it has always been your dream, sometimes you just need a breather. In the past week you’ve been in and out of auditions for a movie they keep top secret, you didn’t even get a script, just a few pages you had to memorize and they’ve been asking for more and more tapes from you with kind of absurd requests, but your agent told you it’s something major, that’s why they are so secretive. However, when they ask you to come in for another reading for the fifth time in seven days and you still don’t know what you are really auditioning for, you are kind of starting to have enough with all your other projects running at the same time. Your days start at six in the morning and rarely end before eleven in the night.

An entire month after the night Harry came over to your place, you kind of lose patience. The frustration that’s been building up inside you just simply bursts when your agent texts you on your way home that you’d have to go in for another casting in the morning for the same mystery movie.

“Have they not seen my face enough?” you snap, hands meeting the wheel as you keep your eyes on the road ahead of you.

“I’m sorry, Hun. I know it’s annoying, but they requested you, that means you are still an option for them.” Mona’s voice comes through the speakers of the car since your phone is connected to it.

“Do they need me to read the whole fucking Bible in front of a camera or what?” you growl.

“I have a good feeling about this last one, alright? And if they still can’t decide after that, we can always just say that we want out.”

“Then I would be labelled as the problematic little princess,” you sigh, knowing well how this industry works. Just one mistake and you can easily end up in a theoretical ditch.

“Just hold on a little longer, okay? I’ll send you the details in email and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Bye, girl.”

Mona is an angel. She’s been your agent for about five years now, she is the one who gets you into castings, well, at least that’s what she was doing before you managed to reach your breakthrough. She got your name on lists you couldn’t even dare to dream of and she is the reason why you are here today. Now she mostly handles requests for you to go in for castings, creators started to reach out to you a while ago, though Mona still works her magic sometimes to get you into castings that are still out of your league.

By the time you get home, you are desperate to do something. Anything. You’ve been nonstop working these past weeks and you just need to get out of this loop that sucked you in. Before you could even think through what you’re doing, you dial Harry’s number.

He is back in the city, that you know of because he texted even before he got home. You both ditched the idea of having your date today, because you just knew it would be a long day for you, and it’s the truth, it’s past ten, so not quite ideal for a date, but you ran out of fucks to give.

“Y/N? Everything alright?” he asks, noticing that you called, which is not what you usually do, or at least not without checking in if he is free to talk.

“Yeah, sorry I called so randomly. Are you busy?” you ask, feeling a little out of breath, even though you definitely didn’t do anything physically hard. You just can’t help but feel anxious since you are about to ask him out on a spontaneous date.

“No, just… packing and all that. What’s up?”

“So you don’t have anything to do right now?” you clear up.

“No,” he chuckles.

“Alright, so then… what do you say we have that date now?”

Even with him always being so blunt and open about how interested he is in you, it still makes you perfect to ask him out. The silence that comes from his side doesn’t necessarily help either and you are already preparing yourself to get rejected.

“You know it’s ten pm, right?” he then asks, a little unsure if you really thought it through.

“I am aware, yes.”

“Don’t you have work in the morning? I know you always start your days so early, I don’t want to be the reason why yo—“

“Harry,” you stop him midsentence. “I do not give a fuck about what I’m doing in the morning,” you bluntly tell him and you can tell he is smiling on the other end of the call. “So the question is still the same. Do you want to have that date now?”

He doesn’t ask anything else, just simply say the following: “I’ll pick you up in thirty.”

“Make it twenty,” you tell him and end the call before he could protest.

Ignoring the adrenaline rush you that just washed over your body you quickly make your way to the bathroom to take the quickest cold shower before putting on some clean clothes. You really don’t want to overdo it, knowing well since it’s so abrupt he wouldn’t be taking you anywhere that would require you look spotless. You choose not to put on any makeup, not just because you don’t have the time, but also because you feel a weird urge to just be bare, be yourself around him. The same goes for your outfit. You put aside all designer clothes and opt for a simple pair of jeans, a black tank top and a bright yellow knitted jumper over it, looking awfully casual, but feeling rather comfortable.

It takes Harry 22 minutes to get to your place, but you choose not to comment on those two extra minutes when you get into his car. Luckily, he isn’t dressed to impress either, wearing a simple pair of jeans with some kind of washed out, vintage printed tee shirt with his Bode Jacket he has worn in his famous SNL episode. His hair looks a little mess and even wet, making you wonder if your call caught him in the middle of a shower or he showered after you agreed to meet up.

“Long time no see,” he smiles at you, his boyish smirk making your heart flutter so easily as he eyes you while you buckle yourself up.

“You had plenty of paparazzi photos to look at in the meantime, Mr. Styles,” you smirk at him teasingly as he starts the car and leaves from in front of your complex.

“My favorite was the ones of you where you were walking out of a restaurant wearing that silk dress and the coat.”

“So you did see pap pictures?” you ask chuckling, you didn’t mean it entirely, but you find it funny that he actually saw pictures of you.

“You know, it’s been hard to avoid you online, especially because I keep liking all your posts so my phone thinks I’m interested in you. Which is true, and I’m not complaining about the content I’ve been seeing about you lately,” he admits chuckling and your eyes wander down to his ring clad fingers on the wheel. Your thoughts take you back to when they were touching you at places you haven’t been touched in a while. How they felt inside you and how desperate he could make you with just his hands.

You force yourself to look away from his hands and focus on the present time before your arousal becomes way too evident.

“Sorry I’m everywhere,” you smirk at him, enjoying the situation maybe a little too much.

“Don’t be,” he chuckles, glancing in your way for a moment, his green eyes meeting your gaze. “I don’t mind it,” he adds and those damn butterflies as quick to act up again in your stomach.

You don’t try to get him to tell where you are headed, wanting it to be a surprise yourself, so you just stare out at the night city as it runs past you, still quite a lot of people walking on the streets even though it’s now nearing eleven.

What you know is that you’re still in Manhattan and it seems like you won’t leave it either. Harry navigates his way through the city easily, he is not even using GPS, something you could never do. No matter how long you’ve been living here, you’ll always get lost in this jungle some call New York City. About fifteen minutes after leaving your complex, Harry parks the car down in a spot he found along the road, and looking out the window you’re trying to figure out where you are, but it doesn’t ring a bell. Seems just like a usual part of the Upper West Side, so now he has you curious about his plans.

“Where did you bring me, Mr. Styles?” you ask him as the two of you meet on the sidewalk and he glances at your with a sly smirk.

“Since you gave me such a short notice about our date, I thought I would show you one of my favorite places in the city and I hope you haven’t it.” “Well, I can assure you I don’t know it, because I have no idea what could be here,” you admit.

Harry nods at you to follow him and you walk side by side until the next corner.

“I think you already know that I’m English,” he starts off, making you chuckle.

“Yeah, it’s pretty evident,” you nod.

“So, in the past decade I haven’t spent as much time in the UK as I wanted, and a few years ago I discovered a little piece of my home in the city.”

Trying to figure out what he meant by that you don’t even realize where you just took a turn to. Harry stops and you snap out of your thoughts, looking up and seeing a charming little street ahead you, looking totally out of place in the city’s fashion. The townhouses all the way down look like they’ve been placed here straight from England, the Tudor style complex is a refreshing change in the fast paced, busy streets of Manhattan.

You can’t help but gasp at the sight in front of you, taking in every tiny detail with your eager eyes as the feeling of being in a fairytale takes over your mind. If only it weren’t for the busy noises of the streets around the micro-neighborhood, you would completely believe that you’ve been magically teleported to England.

“It’s called the Pomander Walk. Always makes me feel like I’m home away from home whenever I miss my family and my hometown.”

Harry starts walking down the narrow pavement that runs between the houses, lined with quite some greenery, something you noticed right away. There are just so many plants and flowers down the street, it’s pretty clear the residents keep them in good care.

You catch up with Harry, eyes still taking in the pleasant contrast Pomander Walk has to offer for any visitors.

“I feel like we are invaders,” you tell him. It looks so secluded, makes you feel like you weren’t even supposed to be here.

“Don’t worry, it’s totally public. The people who live here are pretty nice too. Love it when someone comes around.”

“How did you find this place?”

“A friend told me about it and just came to see it for myself one day,” he tells you as the two of you slowly make your way down the street, slow enough so you could see everything. “There are 61 units and they were built in 1921 by Thomas J. Healy. He originally wanted to build a hotel here, but didn’t have the money to just yet, so he built these instead to make some cash for the hotel. He never got to do that though, died a few years later, so Pomander Walk stayed.” You listen to him, soaking in every word that leaves his lips, finding his oddly specific knowledge about this place quite exciting and… kinda hot. You could listen to him talk about historical facts for days without getting bored.

“The whole complex was renovated in 2009, they restored a bunch of architectural details that lost through the years.”

“Looks fantastic. I wonder what they look like on the inside,” you muse, your eyes wandering over the colorfully painted old school window blinds on most of the townhouses.

Walking down the pavement you realize there’s not a single soul around here, something you don’t get to experience too often in the city.

“It’s not too well-known, right? I don’t see any tourists and all that.”

Harry shakes his head, eyes ahead of him as he hides his hands in his pockets.

“No, ‘s quite hidden, not often listed in sights to be seen in the city. That’s why I like to come here so much.”

“Easy to stay unnoticed,” you add with a smile as your eyes meet his gaze and he nods, returning the smile.

You walk back and forth on the street at least five times, just talking and sharing and laughing, finally falling out of the misery of your everydays. He still amazes you with how good of a company he is, with his broad view of life and many experiences, you can truly connect with him on a level you haven’t been able to reach with anyone in a long time.

It’s way over midnight when you head back to his car, holding hands that happened at a point earlier, but you can’t tell who reached for who. It was kind of mutual, but now you didn’t want to let go of him… ever. You let your fingers play with his S ring on his pinky while he keeps running his thumb over the back of your hand whenever he has the chance. It’s a little disappointing when you have to let go of each other when you climb back into his car and head back home.

“I know this date wasn’t much, but I hope you liked it,” he smiles at you shyly before his eyes snap back at the road ahead of him.

“Shut up, this was literally the best date I’ve had,” you tell him making him chuckle. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

“Now it’s your secret place too. Maybe we’ll run into each other here one day.”

“I’ll definitely come back,” you admit smirking.

The city lights pass by you faster than you want them to, and you arrive to your complex way too early. Well, not according to the time, because it’s way past half past midnight now, but you just don’t want the night to end. However, you know Harry would not come up if you asked. He is way too big of a gentleman and he wouldn’t want to make you miss your appointment in the morning, but you are definitely collecting that kiss he promised a month or so ago.

“Walk me up, will you?” you ask him softly when he parks down in front of your building. He nods and follows you inside without a second thought.

You both know it’s about to happen, the air thickens between you two in the elevator and neither of you can hold back the small smiles on your lips. Harry walks next to you until you reach your front door and you turn to face him, his green eyes already examining your every move.

“I’m happy we finally got to do this,” you tell him, feeling a blush warming your cheeks from the way he looks at you now.

“I’m glad you called. Was starting to think we would never meet again,” he chuckles making you laugh as well. It really did feel like the universe was plotting against you, but you bet it didn’t expect your sudden move tonight.

There’s a longer pause where neither of you knows what to say or do next and your patience is running low, especially when you see him run his tongue over his pink lips. You just can’t wait any longer to taste them.

“Harry,” you breathe out, the frustration and desire at an all-time high now in your system. Never in your life did it take this long for you to get to a kiss with a guy you were clearly interested in and who returned the feeling as well.

“Yeah?”

“Swear to my lost Emmy Award if you don’t kiss me right now I’ll—“

You don’t get to finish, you don’t even know what you’d have said, but it’s all forgotten when Harry kisses you hard, hands cupping your jaw on both sides, angling your head to grant him the best access to your lips. You return the kiss without a second thought, hungrily tugging and pulling on his lips, your tongues meeting in the middle and fuck! He really knows how to make your toes curl with just a kiss. You grab a fistful of his t-shirt at his stomach, pulling him close and the cold touch of his rings on your skin makes you shudder. Everything about him makes your legs turn into jelly and you are willingly offering yourself to him without a doubt.

He pushes you against your front door, one of his hands wanders down to your waist and he gives it a gentle squeeze that makes you open your mouth more for him. You are a mess and so is he. You have no idea how long you make out, but when you eventually pull back, your chest is heaving and your lips feel swollen. Harry pecks your lips two more times before forcing himself to let go of you.

“Good night, Y/N,�� he murmurs in a low voice as he starts to back towards the elevator.

“Good night, Harry,” you say a little out of breath. He smirks at you one last time before walking into the elevator and the doors close, officially ending your first date.

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#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles never have i ever #never have i ever #harry styles never have i ever series #never have i ever series #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x actress!reader #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot

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heyheyloki · 4 years ago

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Better Than Him

Bakugo Katsuki x M!Reader

Requested? Yes.

Word Count: 2914

When you first started UA, you didn’t have many friends. None of your friends from middle school had gotten accepted into the school, and none of them stuck around either. You didn’t have much of an need to go out of your way to make them, but you didn’t made making some if people approached you. That’s how this all began, because Mina Ashido decided that the handsome pretty boy of the class should be her friend.

Mina was always took her time to go out of her way with you. Partnering up for classwork? She went with you. Needed a partner for hero work? Right by your side.

She was a great friend, and she grew on you. It was just the two of you for a bit in the beginning of the year, that was until the Sports Festival happened. Both of you ended up bonding with Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, and the infamous Bakugo Katsuki.

Unlike your classmates, you didn’t have a problem with Bakugo’s constant rage and raised voice. You knew he wasn’t a bad guy, just someone who needed to prove himself. You didn’t believe it clicked within your classmates, but you didn’t feel like defending someone who didn’t need it. Besides, if you did, you thought you’d only offend him in the end.

Overtime, you all became close friends. Your relationship with Mina grew and stabilized into best friends while your relationships with the others continues to grow.

“Yo, [Name].” You heard Kirishima call out, his desk behind yours. Still, he felt the need to stand next to your deck.

“Yeah?” You questioned.

“You got plans for the weekend? All of us are gonna go hang at Bakugo’s place.” Kirishima explained. For the first time in a while, you were surprised. It wasn’t like Bakugo to let people into his house, especially not his friends that he tries to deny he has.

“Really? And Bakugo is all cool with it?” You questioned, leaning your head forward to get a look at the blond at his desk.

“Don’t look at me! All these idiots invited themselves!” Bakugo yelled, his eyes locked onto yours.

For some reason, you believed him.

“C’mon!” You heard Mina’s voice. When you turned your head to the other side of your desk, she was there. Her palms planted on your desktop. “It’s not like you got anything better to do, right?”

“Woah, you think highly of yourself that you think you’re my only friend.” You teased, watching as she began to pout like a child.

“C’mon, man! Don’t be scared of Bakugo, it won’t be the same without you!” Kaminari suddenly butted in, his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

“What the hell makes you think I’m scared of him?” You growled. Seriously, out of all of them, you were the least scared of the guy.

“Cause you don’t come! Unless, you got something else to do?” Kaminari questioned, a coy grin coming to his features. “Maybe, a date?”

“Oh, my god! Really? Since when?” Mina shouted, her excitement growing.

You sighed, seriously, sometimes you think these guys have nothing else to do but bother you. You weren’t complaining necessarily, but you know that for some reason beyond you, that you complete their group. Maybe it was cause you could run your mouth to Bakugo without flinching, or perhaps you were just you and they loved that about you.

“It’s not a date.” You hummed out. Your hand coming up to remove Kaminari’s arm from your body. “I just already made plans with Midoriya. Sorry.”

You didn’t think they’d make a big deal out of it, especially since most were on good terms with the green haired fool that always seems to break his bones any chance he gets. Then again, you forgot that one person isn’t his biggest fan.

“Uh? Deku? Why the hell are you wasting your time with that nerd?” Bakugo suddenly called out, all eyes now on the group. Especially Bakugo and you.

When you looked at him, it was like a war was on the brink of starting. It wand uncommon for the both of you to argue here and there, so no one was worried necessarily, but something in your gaze made his blood run cold. He really didn’t take a liking to the way you looked at him, but instead of taking into account why, he just blamed it on your quirk.

The quirk you had was tricky in more ways than one. It distorted your personality at times, and the abilities that came along with one single quirk had some people jealous, envious of you. Maybe that’s what Bakugo liked about you, he knew that people were jealous of his stupidly-awesome quirk just like they were of yours. You had a commonality, and that made him see you as an equal. Though, as he got to know you, that quickly turned into respect.

“What? Jealous I’m hanging with him instead of you?” You asked in a snarky tone that made Bakugo almost pop a vein.

“Why the hell would I be jealous of that loser?” He yelled, his hand slamming down hard on his desk. Some of his classmates flinched at the noise, but you remained perfectly still. Continuing to give him that annoying look that he wanted to just wipe off your face.

“Don’t know,” you hummed. Your eyes still not removing themselves from Bakugo’s orbs. It was odd to you how this guy chooses to act this way in school but when he’s just hanging out with you, he’s the chillest guy you’d ever met. Though, that was only if it was just you and him. “But, I’ll be free another day. So don’t go missing me too much.”

“Like I’d ever miss you, idiot!” He screamed out once more in retaliation.

You just smiled to yourself before class shortly after started. You wish you could go, but you’re a man of your word and promised Midoriya you’d help him out. Besides, if you weren’t loyal, what else did you have left? Your quirk made it quite difficult to be anything else.

When that weekend passed, Bakugo tried to ask you to hang out with him. There was a carnival in town and he didn’t want to go with the others unless you were there. Sadly, you had to decline again.

“Sorry, Bakugo, I already made plans with Midoriya.” You told him with an apologetic smile. “Maybe next week.”

He did try again next week. It wasn’t like he wanted to, in fact, he felt pathetic doing this for weeks on end and you always rejecting him. It was just easier to deal with the chaotic antics of the others with you around. It wasn’t like he enjoyed you being around, no, not at all.

It didn’t help when everyone else started to talk about you while they all hanged out.

“Man!” Kaminari whined. “When is [Name] gonna come back and hang with us?”

“Not sure, but he’s been hanging around Midoriya a lot more lately.” Mina expressed, her eyes wondering up at the clear sky as they all walked around the park.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, those two have been getting really close, right?” Kirishima questioned. “I mean, he never really talked to him until recently. Makes ya wonder what they’re doing.”

It would be a lie to say that didn’t irk Bakugo. Did you think Deke was better than him? That couldn’t possibly be it, right? After all, he was better. He was your friend first before Deku, so why did you prefer that guy over him?

“I don’t know about [Name] but did you hear about Midoriya?” Sero suddenly asked.

Bakugo made up this mask that he wasn’t interested in this conversation whatever, but when he heard that, his ears perked up. He was never one for gossip, hell, he hated it. But for some reason when it came to you, it felt like he needed to know. Especially if Deku had a part in it.

“No, what happened?” Kaminari questioned, the others on edge.

“I overheard Uraraka talk with Iida about how Midoriya was suddenly acting weird whenever [Name] was around.” Sero started out saying. All of them at the edge of their seats, begging him to just spit it out already. “When Uraraka confronted him, Midoriya said that he was starting to like him! Can you believe that?”

“Seriously?” Mina suddenly shouted with a wide smile and somewhat flushed cheeks.

While everyone stood with shocked expressions across their features, they all asked the same questions. Did you like him as well? Is that why you wouldn’t hang with them?

Though, for Bakugo, it was a little difficult. Unlike everyone else he felt something he hasn’t in a while. He knew he had a short fuse and could be angered easily, but when he heard that it was like something twisted in his chest. It was painful, and made questions run about his mind.

The thing was, Bakugo wasn’t dumb. He cursed himself out in his mind. It wasn’t ‘hero’ behavior, he felt like a loser. He hated that. It was such a petty emotion that ran through his veins. Pure, petty jealousy.

It wasn’t until a few days later that Bakugo saw you. It was in the morning, just before class started up. Everyone was chatting with friends before they had to deal with a grumpy Aizawa in the morning.

When Bakugo walked in, his sight immediately locked onto you. You were in his seat, your body turned to face Midoriya who sat behind the spiky haired blond. You had your elbow on Midoriya’s desk, your head rested in the palm of your hand with a bright smile on your features. It was like when you smiled, in Bakugo’s eyes, you glowed. It was odd to him the first couple of times, but he started to enjoy it. It was like his own secret that no one had the privilege of seeing besides him.

“So, [Name], um,” Midoriya started to mumbled, his fingers now fidging each other. His gaze towards his desk, dancing around as he spoke but not meeting yours for a second.

“What’s up?” You questioned, wondering what he was so worried for.

“I was, uh, wonder if maybe I could draw you?” He asked in a shy tone. Though, once his eyes met yours he immediately shot his hands up and shook them before blurting out, “I mean, only if you want to!”

You stared at him for a moment. It was odd to you how this was the most difficult thing for him to ask when he’s asked you so much things over the past couple of weeks. “Sure, I don’t mind. But, make sure you get my good side.”

Midoriya chuckled. “I’ll try.”

You nodded with a smile, trying out some poses before your eyes got drawn towards the window. Rain was falling and it never ceased to capture your attention in an instant. Though, today your little show would be interrupted.

As you watched some teachers and students scramble into the school from below, your attention was quickly drawn to whoever nudged you in the back of the head. You knew there wasn’t any malice behind it, but instead just to grab your attention.

When you turned your head your eyes went up to Bakugo’s face. It was calm, and something about it was peaceful to you. His red hues were shining with something you didn’t recognize, but, for some reason, you were just happy to have it directed onto you.

“Good morning, Bakugo.” You said with a soft smile. “How was your weekend?”

“It was whatever.” Bakugo hummed. His eyes never moving anywhere else besides you. “Spiky thought it would be a fun idea to do a picnic.”

“Oh, that sounds fun. Wish I could’ve been there,” you hummed in a sweet tone. Although, before Bakugo had time to respond to your words, you let an soft hum leave your throat before saying, “By the way, I’ll be free today if you wanna hang out and catch up.”

For the first time, Bakugo’s gaze shifted to Midoriya. His calm eyes grew irritated, narrowing on the green haired teen.

You heard Midoriya yelp suddenly, but you didn’t find that any different from any other day before. When Bakugo turned back to you though he said, “Whatever, idiot. Just don’t make a mess while you’re over my house.”

You smiled, your legs bending straight as you stood from his desk. You were a few inches from him when you did, neither of you looking to back up. It was then that your innocent smile turned into a sly grin before brushing your shoulder with Bakugo as you moved back to your seat, completely missing the soft red that popped up on the tips of his ears.

After school Bakugo and you headed out without a word to your other classmates or friends. You made conversation here and there about whatever you could think about, just basically throwing your thoughts at him. It wasn’t until you both came out of the heated building and feel a chill run up your spine. It was days like these were you wish you had some fire or some kind of heat quirk like Bakugo and Todoroki have.

“Shit, it’s freezing.” You grumbled as you hugged yourself from warmth, your teeth beginning to chatter. While it was cold, you did enjoy Bakugo’s heat that helped you at least tolerate this bullshit. Though, when he suddenly stopped as you continued to walk, it didn’t take long for you to notice.

When you turned you noticed him digging around in his bag. You leaned your head to the side, confused on what he was doing. You took a step forward, your lips parting as you were about to let words slip past them. Before you had the chance though, you felt something warm wrap around you.

“Don’t freeze to death, idiot.” Bakugo said before continuing to walk.

Your eyes quickly shot down to see a scarf loosely wrapped around your neck. The gesture itself shouldn’t be anything to gush over, it was a kind thing that anyone would do. Though, for some reason, when Bakugo did it it felt like your entire body was now suddenly warm.

When both of you arrived at Bakugo’s place since it was closer to the school than yours, you noticed his parents weren’t home. It didn’t bother you since this wasn’t the first time you’ve been over without them around. But you did find it odd that Bakugo just dropped his thinks and started to travel to his room. Normally you both would grab some drinks and snacks to chill with while you hanged out, but that didn’t happen. You decided not to question him and just followed behind him silently.

You believed nothing was wrong, but when you saw him sitting at the edge of his bed with his head down, you knew you were wrong.

You sighed, leaning against the door frame you asked, “Alright, what’s wrong with you?”

Bakugo’s eyes locked on you. It would have scared you, but it wasn’t the first time he looked at you like that.

“Do you like Deku more than me or something?” He suddenly questioned, his voice prickled with thorns. One wrong move, and you knew you wouldn’t recover.

You leaned your head. “Bakugo, really?”

“Do I look like I’m joking to you, idiot?”

No, he didn’t, but you wish he was. It wasn’t like you were keeping a secret from him, but it was a pain in the ass to explain.

You sighed, your hands dug in your pockets before walking up next to Bakugo. You took a second before sitting down next to him, making sure he wouldn’t deny you. The moment you sat down you said, “Midoriya is cool and all, but just because I’ve been hanging out with him doesn’t mean that I think he’s cooler than you or something.”

Bakugo raised his head an inch. Side-eyeing you he growled, “Then why the hell are you blowing me off, huh? If you wanna hang out with that nerd so bad than just do it!”

You didn’t make any moves, nor did you try and make any snarky comments. It was hard to hold in instinct, but for him you could do it.

“I wasn’t trying to blow you off, okay?” You hummed out in the kindest voice you could muster up. “Midoriya asked me if it would be okay to get some information about my quirk for this hero journal he’s been keeping. I said yes, and it just happened to take longer than I thought.”

The blond next to you went quiet, you knew he probably felt silly or like a ‘loser’ but you didn’t think that about him at all. Not in the slightest.

With a single motion, your shoulder moved over to Bakugos’. You didn’t move, nor try to. Instead, you took in a pleasant breath of air as you relaxed into him. It’s been weeks since you could last do this, and you missed it. He would never allow you to in public or with your other friends, which, you understood and respected. So, it was really--really--nice now that you could.

“Yanno, you didn’t have to get jealous, Suki.” You cooed out.

You thought he would flip out on you. He really did hate when you called him that in private, but today, he didn’t. When you felt him move, it wasn’t like you remembered before he flips out. So, you moved your head an inch to see what he had done. A large smile growing on your lips when you noticed his head turned away from you, unable to see his face. But, you did hear him when he said, “Shut up, idiot.”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x male reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo x male reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #my hero academia x male reader #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia headcanons

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years ago

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A Loki TVA/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 5

He is aware that the love of his life is digging her fingers into his arm and saying his name.

He is aware of Stark standing to his other side, visor off, speaking to someone on the phone. His voice is hard.

But most of all, Loki is aware that all their lives were just changed by a great big terrifying rip in the seam of reality.

Neither Jane nor the Avenger could possibly be completely sure of what they saw. Loki, as much as he desperately wants to, harbors little doubt.

The man he held in a death-grip only minutes ago and who just now disappeared through a doorway conjured out of thin air was somehow … himself.

Another him. Just as the man had said.

After witnessing from afar the double kiss Jane, Loki, who was coming back from a swim, had been more than ready to skip past introductions and just sever the intruder’s head from his body.

But as soon as he had laid hands on him, a torrent of images had flooded his mind – chaotic, confused images that seemed to span past, present, future and beyond.

The shock had made him lessen his grip and the double had used his (his!) magic to throw him off.

With some distance between them and Stark suddenly there as well, Loki had tried to let his rage quell the dizzying realization. Unsuccessfully.

He is still shaking, clutching a dagger in each hand. He drew them instinctively as the other made for the door.

He should have caught him!

“Loki! What did he say?!”

“What?” His thoughts are racing in too many directions to hear her.

“The … man, what was he saying to you?!”

Jane is looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes, worry and urgency all over her delicate features. Though not fear, Loki notes. His ever-brave wife. Both her hands are now clamped around his wrist.

That thing kissed her.

The daggers disappear and Loki wraps both arms around the mother of his unborn child, almost crushing her to his chest while still staring at the spot where the double vanished.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love”, he murmurs. He suspects things are very much not okay.

So does Jane, of course.

“Loki, was it … oof, not so tight … “

She wriggles against him, and he remembers his amor. And her condition. He immediately relaxes his arms a bit while letting the leather and metal melt back into the clothes he wore before: Black jeans and a fitted, dusty green t-shirt (his “rockstar outfit”, Jane had called it, when Loki first started switching up his human wardrobe some years ago now). Drops of saltwater still cling to the ends of his slightly curly raven locks.

“Tony! Jane, Loki! What on Earth was that?”

Pepper jumps out of the car parked in front of the house and runs towards them. She must have seen everything as she drove down the road following her flying husband.

“The verdict’s still out, Peps”. Tony nods at Loki. “You wanna chip in here? I just called the boy-scout at headquarters and told him to be on guard for one of the magician’s interns playing a prank”.

Loki shakes his head slowly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Stephen had anything to do with this”.

“You’re right, I didn’t”.

All four of them turn around to see the sorcerer step out of a swirling ring of light, his cape billowing around him. The mahogany floor and paneled walls of his Manhattan mansion are briefly visible behind him before the portal closes with a hiss of little sparks.

Strange is wearing an even sterner expression than usual which only adds to Loki’s growing sense of dread.

Tony, however, groans loudly.

“Dude, really? Couldn’t you at least have let us have dinner before party crashing? Not shaming your bachelor lifestyle or anything, but this was couples’ night!”

“Tony!” Pepper hits her husband on the arm.

Strange ignores him.

“I’m afraid the arrival of your surprise visitor indicates that a set of … unfortunate events have been set in motion”.

As always, his voice is as even as if he was reading the weather forecast, but by now Loki has learned to differentiate the (very) subtle nuances between scorn and sincerity. Strange places his hands behind his back and regards them coolly. “I’ve had Wong reach out to Doctor Banner and director Fury. They should be here shortly. Stark, you may want to-”.

Tony narrows his eyes, lip twitching.

“Hey, Bleeker Street, you know I have low tolerance for you showing up and barking orders without giving two f**** for context. How did you even know that something was going down here? By all means, don’t keep us in suspense until the cavalry gets here”.

Strange doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes dart to Jane sends needles through Loki’s heart.

“Let’s go sit down, shall we?” With one eyebrow raised, Strange puts on a suave smile and gestures towards the house. The effect is a little startling.

Jane ducks out from under Loki’s arms. “Jane, don’t you want to-“. She brushes him off.

“Yes, good idea, Stephen. Let’s go sit down”. She motions for Strange to follow. “Welcome to our home. I was actually making drinks before, but I think I need to add a bit more kick to them…”

Her voice is oddly calm, and Loki fights the urge to grab her and magic them both far, far away, not caring that she would be furious with him for making decisions on her behalf.

He’s brought back to the present by an even odder sound as Strange actually chuckles.

Loki is not sure he’s ever heard it before. Then again, it’s not that he really knows Strange when it comes down to it. Like Tony, Loki finds the wizard exceedingly arrogant.

Pepper is the first to follow Jane and Strange across the lawn while Loki and Tony hang back.

“Real ladies’ man when he wants to. Who would have thought”. The billionaire superhero scoffs. His suit has folded itself off and into a briefcase next to his feet.

“Tony-“

“Uh oh. First name basis. So this really is an emergency”.

Loki faces his friend. Often in the past years, as they’ve grown steadily closer outside of “work”, he has secretly marveled at how long they’ve come since someone threw someone else off a building after being called a diva.

And attacking a city with an alien army.

Jane always insisted the two “hotheads” (her word) had a lot in common when not trying to murder one another (be it with weapons or sarcastic commentary), and Loki has to admit she was right. The metal man is fiercely intelligent, and Loki has been enjoying the quick-witted snark between them infinitely more than he ever valued the company of Thor’s band of gullible warrior groupies on Asgard.

“Well?”. Tony is regarding him with eyebrows raised, expectant. “Give me your take on this cause I’m starting to put together some rather outlandish theories myself here that I’m kinda hoping you’ll thwart ASAP”.

Loki draws in a deep breath.

“That thing with Banner at the tower two years ago-“

“Fuck!” Tony exhales, exasperated. “I knew you were gonna say that”. He squints into the distance towards the ocean, his mouth a tight line. It’s a rare day that Tony Stark is caught under a clear blue sky without sunglasses but for once he doesn’t seem to notice.

Loki takes a step closer to him and lowers his voice so they won’t alert the others just yet.

“I told you then and you didn’t want to listen! Everything about Bruce’s story was off. I know he didn’t remember much after Steve took him down, but you all pretty much accused me of trying to get back at him for, well, you know what, and I kept telling you I thought someone had gotten to him! Now-“

Loki searches for the words. It’s beyond absurd.

“That man was a version of me, Tony. I have no idea how, but I felt it. I saw into his mind. It was filled with images from my past and then … other, recent memories. Dark ones. He came from nowhere. Literally. It didn’t feel like a place. I tried to discard it as a trick, you saw that, but…” Loki runs his hand through his moist hair. “Stephen obviously felt something tear open too. And that is not a good sign”.

He has Tony’s full attention.

“Tear open? Could this other you be associated with your old boss? With Thanos?”

Loki winces.

“No, I don’t think he’s involved”, he says sharply. “But I can’t be sure …”

Tony catches his tone pats his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Shake it off. Didn’t mean to suggest anything. Let’s say he’s not. I’d much prefer that, at least until the wizard presents us with an even uglier imminent threat to the universe. Which, judging by the fact that he’s even here, willingly sipping cocktails in your kitchen as we speak, he probably will”.

Tony throws his hands up with a dramatic air.

“And here I thought the most challenging part of this weekend would be to convince you two to come see Hamilton with us in the city next week!”

“Who’s-“

“Never mind. Did you get a look at that gadget your guy was holding? Boy, he looked like an office slave who’d slept under his desk for a month before getting fired, didn’t he? Were you ever into accounting yourself by any chance?”

Loki shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Immediately he sees the image of the double kissing Jane, his arms wrapped firmly around her supple body. Rage rushes right back through him and his eyes snap open.

“Stark - I can’t. But yes, I did notice the device. It looked like a phone”.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think it was the new iPhone”.

Tony shakes his head.

“The two of us and we didn’t take him down. Fury’s gonna have our badges”.

The director of SHIELD and Bruce Banner arrive barely 15 minutes later through a portal in the middle of the meadow-like lawn, following Wong and both looking grim and out of place as they weave around patches of wildflowers to reach the porch.

“Gentlemen, I trust you’re well”. Loki greets the trio with an only vaguely sarcastic nod as he holds open the screen doors to them, like a good host. Despite what some may still think, he can behave.

He could have just used magic of course, but he figures Banner is freaked enough as it is just by being here. The scientist hasn’t spoken more than five words to him since 2014 and at least three of them were expletives.

Once inside the small living room, Bruce goes to stand by the window and busies himself polishing his glasses with a little too much vigor than seems warranted.

He avoids Loki’s eyes but looks up and smiles wearily as Jane comes over to say hello.

Fury leans against the doorframe to the hallway and crosses his arms, face a closed book, and, by the sound of it, Tony is going through the cabinets in the kitchen trying to find something to spice up Jane’s pre-dinner cocktails.

Pepper is talking to Strange and Wong on the blue IKEA couch (assembled by magic after the attempt to go at it “as a team” turned into a shouting match), and Loki is about to politely ask Strange to please spit it out right this minute, when Jane is next to him, taking his hand.

“We need to talk. Now”.

Her voice is low and steady but her eyes insisting. She squeezes his fingers.

He squeezes back. “Come”.

Loki looks to Fury but he’s focused on Strange who’s listening very closely to something Wong’s saying.

Not letting go of Jane’s hand, he turns towards the kitchen. In the doorway they pass Tony who’s now holding what appears to be a glass of scotch. He must have given up on the gin and tonics.

“Hey, where are you two going? Forget about playing hosts okay, let’s just get started with part two of the evening’s entertainment”.

“In a minute”.

Jane pushes past him, ignoring Tony’s look and dragging Loki with her.

She closes the door behind them.

“Okay, so…” Jane looks around nervously in the small kitchen with the rustic white fronts and old brass handles. She loves that kitchen. They haven’t changed a thing since moving in. Loki reaches for her, but she takes a step back. “Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there faster. Did he …“

“I need you tell me exactly what he said to you”.

She is absentmindedly opening and closing her fists in the way she does when that brilliant astrophysicist mind of hers is working out an intricate problem in the lab.

Or, Loki knows, when she’s about to deliver him bad news.

He clears his throat. “He said he was me. And that something big was happening”. There. “And then he said he was sorry”.

Jane studies his face.

“That he was sorry? For what?”

“He didn’t say. He stepped through the door”.

Jane is quiet and now it’s Loki’s turn to try and read her expression.

“What did he say to you? I assume he pretended to be me …?”

Jane holds up a hand and bites her lip. Loki swallows.

“Loki, when we were staying at the flat in London, after we defeated Malekith…”

“What?” Loki furrows his brow in confusion. “Why are we-“

“The poison from the monster’s blade, it had you slipping in and out of consciousness for days. You were so feverish…”

“Yes, I know. I was there”. Loki’s blood is slowly turning very cold, but he musters a smile. “And you were amazing, love. Although some might say you took adv-“

Jane interrupts him in the middle of his blossoming smirk. A slight blush appears on her own cheeks.

“Yes, um, it’s not about that day”. She gives him a stern look. “The other day, later, when Thor left after you two went and had your, um, talk … there’s something I need to tell you …”

The door to the living room opens behind them.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, Doctor Foster, I would very much like to hear this too”.

Stephen Strange steps into the kitchen. The door closes behind him.

Part 6

#loki #loki series #lokane #tva loki #loki fanfic #loki ff #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #loki x jane #jane foster #shine a light #plainlo inthemorning #doctor strange #stephen strange #tony stark

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galahadwilder · 4 years ago

Text

Future Perfect

This is my @mlsecretsanta fic for @crispypata! Crispy asked for DJWifi and Bunnyx, so I delivered.

It’s been a long week, and Alya is grateful for some alone time. While it’s always nice to have the others around, there’s an unstated pleasure in being the only one of her friends awake this early. Nino and Marinette are always asleep until very shortly before class, and Adrien may be awake, but his driver won’t be here for at least another twenty minutes. That’s a precious twenty minutes away from her sisters, away from anybody else. A precious twenty minutes of quiet.

Normally she’d spend this time updating the Ladyblog, moderating comments, writing posts, but after last night’s battle she just… she needs some time. Time to herself.

She’s shaking, just a little. She’s not even touching her phone. For the first time in a while, she’s actually reading a physical comic book—specifically, The Mighty Majestia Issue #48. Her first comic. A gift from her father when she was a little girl. It used to make her feel better when things were going bad. She needs that, a little bit, today. The feel of the paper under her fingertips.

It wasn’t her first near-death experience—she’s had a lot of those since Hawkmoth appeared in Paris. But Ladybug almost hadn’t made it last night. Alya had gone running after the Akuma, like usual, and…

A body flops down next to her on the bench. The warmth and weight of it—she glances to the side, and meets the familiar warm eyes of Nino.

“You okay?” he asks, laying his hand on top of the comic. “You haven’t read this since before we met.”

Alya nods. “Last night was bad,” she says.

Nino nods. “Yeah,” he responds. “Yeah it was.”

He doesn’t say anything else.

Alya is rarely the most perceptive person—more passionate than perceptive, honestly, though not for lack of trying (she tries really hard, it’s just… hard to tell what other people aren’t saying sometimes)—but she cares, and Nino is at school forty minutes before he’s usually awake and he seems unusually tense. She closes her comic. “Babe?”

Nino sighs, looking down as he picks at a hangnail on his thumb. “I can’t keep watching you die, Als.”

Alya’s heart judders. “You’re not okay, then.”

He shakes his head. “I mean Rena Rouge is one thing. I know you can protect yourself, and Ladybug is right there if things go bad. But every time I see you chase after a giant baby with no protection but that sexy plaid shirt...”

“I have a responsibility, Nino!” she says.

“I know,” Nino says quietly. “I can’t really ask you to stop, either.”

Alya swallows. “Are you... breaking up with me?”

Nino looks at her for a moment, then snorts. “Hell no.” He reaches up to Alya’s cheek, brushing her hair away from her ear. “You ain’t getting away from me that easy, girl.”

Alya relaxes, leaning into his palm. “Attaboy,” she says.

Nino grimaces. “I might… need a day or two to process, though.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

Alya’s heart falls. “You’re sure.” It’s not a question—Nino doesn’t make decisions half-cocked the way she does. He thinks, and considers, and once his choice is made, he sticks to it. That surety—that stability—is one of the reasons she loves him. Even if right now it’s hurting her.

“I’m sure,” he says. “Just… I need a few days after. You know.” He hangs his head. “Seeing you die again.”

Oh, God, Alya wants to slap him. And maybe a year ago she would have. But today-Alya is not last-year-Alya, and, instead, she just drops her head a little. “It was a bad one, wasn’t it,” she says.

Alya trudges out of class, dragging her feet. It’s been a difficult day, to say the least, and Marinette—bless her—may be trying to help, but there’s not all that much to do.

“We could go to my place and stuff ourselves with Beignets,” Marinette offers, with her characteristic hyperenergetic movement. “I know you love the Majestia movie?”

Alya shakes her head. “I relax a bit better when I move,” she says. She looks at the basketball hoops. “Can you stick around for…” She catches a hint of green out of the corner of her eye—a familiar shade, one that she’s seen quite a lot. She blinks. “For a few…” She turns her head, and there—staring down at her from the roof of the school—is Carapace. “Uh.”

Marinette follows her gaze. “What are you—”

Carapace’s head jerks as he seems to realize that he’s been spotted, and he leaps down out of sight.

“What is he doing?” Alya murmurs.

Marinette’s iron fingers wrap around her bicep. “Alya,” she hisses, “that’s not Carapace.”

“What do you mean?” Alya says, turning her head, just in time to catch a glimpse of Nino—as Nino, not as Carapace—walking out of the locker room on the opposite side of the school from where Carapace disappeared. It’s too soon, too fast—there’s no way he could’ve come around the school that quickly.

“Excuse me,” she says, bolting towards her boyfriend. She grabs his arm and yanks him away from Adrien.

“Babe... what?” he says, looking at her like she just grew a second head.

“I just saw Carapace on the roof,” she hisses.

His eyes widen behind his glasses.

They didn’t really discuss it, at least not verbally, but they both pretty easily came to the decision that whoever this is, stealing their identities is not something this person gets to get away with. They don’t even talk it through before they’ve agreed to chase this imposter down.

“You’re sure he went this way?” Nino asks as they charge off down the street toward where Alya had last seen the false Carapace.

“Yes, I’m—!” Alya starts to snap, before she catches herself and—stopping her headlong charge by pressing a palm into a nearby wall—breathes in. “Sorry, sorry.” She glances at him. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

“God, I wish I had my shield,” Nino mutters. He grabs her hand and meets her eyes with his characteristic Nino Soft Look. “If this ends up being a bad one, please take cover?”

Alya grimaces. “The Akuma is using your face, Babe,” she says.

“Please.” His voice is calm and soft.

Alya thinks about how distraught he was this morning, how little she wants to do that to him again. “I’ll—I’ll try.”

Nino smiles. “That’s really all I can ask, isn’t it.”

Alya smiles, tugging him along. “You knew I was crazy when I asked you out,” she says, building carefully building back up to a run.

Nino snorts, vaulting over a street barrier. “That I did.”

It takes barely a minute before they reach the spot where the false Carapace must’ve gone, leaving them looking down wide avenues packed with people—none of whom are wearing a green hood.

“We lost him,” Nino says, puffing.

“I mean,” Alya gasps, “duh.” She leans onto her knees. “He’s got—powers, and we—we have, what—about eight—months of parkour training?”

A familiar whizz-crack comes from above, as a spotted red figure drops down in front of them. “Alya!” Ladybug says, glancing confusedly at Nino. “Did you see where Carapace went?”

“Nope,” Alya says. She leans in toward Ladybug, carefully eyeing the other people who are watching the exchange. “Definitely an Akuma, then?” she whispers, quietly enough that nobody else is alarmed.

“Maybe?” Ladybug whispers back. “Or a Sentimonster, or. Well. One other thing.”

Alya’s eyebrows narrow. “What other thing?”

Ladybug shakes her head. “Probably not important,” she says. She straightens and backs away, whipping her yo-yo in rapid circles. “Everyone stay calm and quietly evacuate the area,” she says in a clear, authoritative voice. “Calmly, please! Everything is under control.”

There’s a growing undercurrent of panic in the crowd at Ladybug’s words, but there’s a force behind her last sentence, a reassurance, that passes calm through the crowd like a ripple. Much to Alya’s surprise, there’s no stampede, no rush to flee. Everyone actually listens, beginning to carefully file away, emptying out the street.

“Any chance we could get our Miraculi?” Nino asks. “I don’t like this.”

Ladybug glances over her shoulder at him. “Not until Chat gets here,” she says. “I can’t just leave the Akuma without anyone containing it.”

A black blur drops out of the sky, rolling and springing to his feet next to Ladybug. “Good thing I’m here, then!” Chat says, leaning his elbow onto her shoulder.

Ladybug rolls her eyes. “Always so dramatic,” she says, turning to her partner. “Can you hold down the fort for a few while I grab backup?”

Chat eyes Alya and Nino. “So long as the Ladyblogger doesn’t get herself killed, yes.”

There’s still been no sighting of the fake Carapace by the time Ladybug returns carrying the bracelet and the necklace. Chat has been running across the rooftops, spying into alleyways, but hasn’t seen scale nor shell of him.

“Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe,” Ladybug intones, holding the two Miraculi aloft. “I’m trusting you with the Miraculous of the Fox and Turtle.” She purses her lip. “I’m going to ask you to switch, though. I don’t want us mixing up our Carapi.”

Alya grimaces, but Nino just nods. “Makes sense,” he says, taking the necklace and draping it around his neck. It sparks, and a tiny fox spirals out from it. “Trixx, Let’s Pounce!” Nino calls.

He flashes orange, sparks running across his whole body, and suddenly Nino is gone, replaced by an orange-clad superhero. He still has Carapace’s hood, peaked down over his forehead, with ears poking through holes in the top. Leggings are tucked into combat boots, black gloves cuffed over white-and-orange sleeves. He looks down at his arms, twisting his hands to look at both sides. “Hmm,” he says. “Pretty cool.”

“What should we call you?” Ladybug says.

Nino meets Alya’s eyes. “What about… Reynard?” he says.

“Reynard it is,” Ladybug says. She turns to Alya, handing her the jade bracelet. “You ready?”

“Always,” Alya says, sliding the bracelet onto her wrist. “Wayzz, Shell On!”

She feels her hair lift into a high ponytail as her glasses meld to her face into a domino mask. Unlike the Rena Rouge transformation, which slims her down, she feels herself bulking up. Armor plates slam into place around her chest, shoulders, and thighs. Everything feels heavier, but also stronger, more stable.

Reynard whistles. “Damn, babe,” he says. “Green looks good on you.”

Tortue Verte grins. “You expected anything else?” she ask. She absently lifts the shield. “Damn, this thing is heavy,” she says, looking at Reynard. “How do you even lift it?”

“Practice,” Reynard says, twirling the flute. “This is really light!”

“It’s basically bamboo,” Tortue replies, slinging the shield onto her back. “You ready?”

Reynard sheathes the flute on his own back. “Let’s take this guy down.”

Tortue Verte’s super jump is a lot like Rena Rouge’s—though, given the balance between her being slightly stronger with the Turtle and also being heavier, it’s a little weird to balance. She gets more distance but less height with each jump, and since her brain keeps expecting Rena’s jump arc, she keeps misjudging where she’s landing.

She lands hard on the side of her foot, twisting her ankle and stumbling shoulder-first into a chimney with a yelp. Her ankle is struck by stabbing pain, and she immediately collapses onto her side. She lies there on the roof, huffing, feeling desperate and foolish. This is not what she was hoping for.

She carefully drags herself up the chimney into a sitting position, carefully pulling the shield from her back and dialing Reynard.

“Hey babe,” he says, his orange-hooded face filling the screen. “You good?”

She shakes her head. “Landed bad,” she says. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

Reynard’s eyes widen behind his goggles. “Where are you?” he says. “I’ll be there in a—”

“Babe!” she interrupts. “Akuma. I’ll be fine up here.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I’m sure,” she says. “Give that fake hell.” She hangs up, then collapses backward against the chimney with a gasp.

“Sorry I didn’t catch you,” a voice—a familiar one, but one she can’t quite place—says from behind her. “I think you’d have broken a few of my bones.”

She whips her head around to see a red-haired woman dressed in blue and white, bunny ears sprouting from her head, leaning on an umbrella as if it were a cane. Tortue tries to leap to her feet, shield up, but pain spikes through her ankle the second her foot meets shingle. “Augh!”

The woman immediately drops the umbrella, and her arms are around Tortue’s body. “Careful,” she says. “Don’t want to put too much weight on that.”

“Don’t touch me,” Tortue growls.

The woman laughs. “Relax, Foxy. I’m not an Akuma.”

Tortue blinks. Foxy? She’s wearing the Turtle, not the Fox, which means… “You—you know who I am.”

The woman smirks and throws up a peace sign. “The name’s Bunnyx,” she says. “Wielder of the Miraculous of Time, from ten years in the future.”

“Prove it,” Tortue says. “What’s Ladybug’s real name?”

Bunnyx snorts. “You’re not getting it that easily… Alya,” she says. “Also, Nino’s sort of downplaying how worried about you he is. You really should start being more careful before you give him a heart attack.”

Tortue stares at Bunnyx, then blinks. “...Okay, you’re for real,” she says. “What are you doing here? Are you warning us about something?”

Bunnyx shakes her head. “I brought Carapace and Rena back from my time for one reason,” she says. “Future Hawkmoth has discovered Ladybug’s identity, which has put her daughter in danger.”

“Daughter?” Tortue says.

Bunnyx continues as if she hasn’t heard. “Ladybug asked me to bring her back in time to protect her from Future Hawkmoth, but I needed backup just in case she followed us. You and your boyfriend were the obvious choice.”

“Where is she?” Tortue says, trying to work her way to her feet. She hisses as pain lances through her ankle again.

“Jeez, stay down, Tortue!” Bunnyx says, carefully easing her back into a sitting position. “You need to be careful. We need you for this one.”

“Don’t bother,” says a voice that sounds like Tortue’s own as an older, taller Rena Rouge lands in a crouch. “I had absolutely no self-preservation at that age.”

Carapace lands next to her, softer, gentler. “You nearly killed me like eight times,” he says, cradling a baby in his arms. He looks down at Tortue. “Hey, babe.”

Rena rolls her eyes, gently punching Carapace’s shoulder. “Don’t flirt with young me, you butt,” she says.

Tortue stares at the baby, wide-eyed. “Is that…” she murmurs.

Rena nods. “Our god-daughter,” she says.

Carapace smiles. “Do you want to hold her?”

“She’s… mine?” Ladybug says, gazing down into her daughter’s emerald-green eyes.

The baby laughs, reaching up toward her mother’s face and pressing her chubby palm into Ladybug’s cheek.

“Who’s the father?” Chat says to Bunnyx, hope shining in his eyes. (Tortue admits to herself that she’s just as interested in finding out.)

Bunnyx smirks. “Oh, Kitty Noir, you know I can’t tell you.”

Chat looks crestfallen. “Not even a hint?”

“She’s so small,” Ladybug whispers, pointing a finger at her daughter’s face. The baby laughs again, gripping her mother’s finger in between her hands.

“You said she’s my—our god-daughter?” Tortue says.

Rena laughs. “My boyfriend has spent more time pampering this little terror than he has me lately,” she says. She turns and pokes Reynard in the chest. “You’ve got some growing to do, babe.”

Carapace rolls his eyes. “Please don’t flirt with the babies, babe,” he says with a smirk.

The laughter that follows seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, and Tortue looks around, unsettled.

“...Wasn’t that funny,” Carapace mutters.

Bunnyx walks toward the edge of the roof, looking down. “Missing the point again, Shelly?” she says, pointing down. “It’s starting.”

“What is?” Chat says.

“ATTENTION PARIS!” a booming, feminine voice echoes deeply through the sky as if it’s rebounding off the very atmosphere, followed by a sudden eruption of Wagnerian opera. “YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED TO JOIN THE RANKS OF ODIN’S MIGHTY WARRIORS IN VALHALLA!”

“Ah,” Chat says, nodding. “Akuma time.”

“Bad one,” Bunnyx agrees, nodding. “We picked today for a reason. Two illusionists needed at minimum.”

Tortue gingerly attempts to stand, only for the pain in her ankle to spike like a jagged piece of bone. “Ah!” she yelps, collapsing backward.

Immediately, two sets of hands are holding her up—Reynard’s and Carapace’s. “You okay?” Reynard says, his eyes soft and concerned.

Carapace swallows. “I’m sorry, babe, but I—” He glances at Rena. “We are going to need you to stay out of this fight. You’re injured.”

“I can help!” Tortue protests.

Carapace shakes his head. “I know how much it means to you to be out there with us, but A—um, sweetie, I need you alive, okay?” He smiles, glancing back at Ladybug. “Besides, um. Someone needs to keep the baby safe.”

Reynard raises an eyebrow. “You are a braver man than I,” he says.

Rena laughs. “Oh, it’s just ‘cause she’s a baby,” she says. “He knows I’d rip his throat out if he tried that.”

“You are also much less suicidally reckless than she is,” Carapace shoots back.

Rena shrugs. “Fair point.”

Ladybug approaches, carefully laying the baby into Tortue’s arms with a look of regret. “Stay safe, okay?” she says. She looks down and presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “And keep her safe.”

Tortue swallows, overwhelmed by the—the everything. The trust Ladybug is showing her, the softness of the moment, the sadness in the child’s eyes as her mother goes back off to battle… it’s too much.

“I’ll do my best,” she croaks, trying not to tear up.

Carapace had carried her away from the battle. Vilekyrie controlled the sky, making it difficult to keep the baby out of her reach, but he’d found her a little out-of-the-way cubbyhole that nobody would come looking in during the attack. Or, well. Not a cubbyhole, really. More of a luxury suite at the Hotel Gran Paris.

“How did you know nobody would be here?” Tortue had asked him.

He’d only smiled in reply. “Spoilers,” he’d said. “Love you forever, but I gotta get back there.”

“Good luck!”

Now, about forty minutes into the battle, she can hear the clash of swords, the clanking of armor, the screaming of horses as they flew past her shaded window. She’d looked outside earlier, caught a glimpse of the copies of Vilekyrie flashing across the sky—copies of her that kept growing by the moment—and the marching of ghostly Viking soldiers on the ground: the Einherjar she’d selected from Paris’ citizens, transformed into undying warrior spirits. It doesn’t seem to be going well, but then, she doesn’t really have the best vantage point.

The baby is fussy, fussier than she was when Ladybug was around—Tortue can only guess that it’s because she wants her mother. The room has been stocked with formula and fresh diapers, and, thanks to her experience with the twins, Tortue has plenty of experience with taking care of a baby, but the girl just won’t settle down.

There’s a quiet footfall on the balcony—not a Vilekyrie, and the Einherjar can’t seem to climb. Tortue turns around to see the balcony door creek open, followed by a pair of large orange ears. “Hey. Mini-me,” Rena says. “You hanging in there?”

Tortue smiles, rocking the baby gently in her arms. “You didn’t tell me her name,” she says. “Feel weird just calling her ‘baby’.”

Rena ducks around the door, shutting it behind her, then bends down, cooing over the child’s delighted face. “HellooOOOooo!” She tickles the baby’s nose with her finger, and the girl laughs.

Rena looks back up at Tortue with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” she says. “No names. Spoilers.”

Tortue rolls her eyes. “Am I always this aggravating?”

Rena gently wraps her arms underneath the baby’s back, lifting her from Tortue’s arms. “Pretty much!” She turns back to the baby and blows a raspberry.

“What’s up?” Tortue says. “Why aren’t you with the others?” As if to punctuate her point, an explosion sounds in the distance, and Tortue raises an eyebrow.

“Needed to talk to you,” Rena says, sitting down on the plush velvet bedspread across from her. “Also, I told them you were planning on running into the combat zone, so…”

“I was not!” Tortue yelps, leaping from her desk chair. The baby immediately squeals in distress.

Rena grins. “I know,” she says, gently tickling the child’s nose. “But they believed me when I said it, and by the time they figure it out…”

Tortue sighs. Gods, her older self is annoying. “What do you want, Alya?”

The animation in Rena’s face slackens, and she looks down at her own stomach. “I… want to show you something.” Keeping one hand under the baby, she reaches behind her and unslings the flute, opening the space within. “Take a look.”

Tortue reaches inside the extradimensional storage space inside Rena’s weapon, confused—and then her fingers close around something small, round, and metal, and she understands. “You’re going to propose,” she says, fishing the ring out of the flute. She stares at it, entranced.

“Yep,” Rena agrees with a nod, gently bouncing the baby. “Bought the ring last week.”

Tortue doesn’t even know what to say in this situation. Is it… weird to congratulate herself? Some situations, there aren’t just good responses for.

Rena sees her face and laughs. “Don’t look so shocked, Mini-me,” she says. She carefully rocks Ladybug’s baby, staring into her green eyes. “I mean, you always knew we were gonna do this eventually.”

“Yeah, but… kinda young?” Tortue says, handing the ring back to Rena.

“Ladybug’s younger.” Rena absently places the ring back inside her flute, still bouncing the baby in her other arm. “About a year younger than you, actually.”

Tortue blinks. She’s—well, she figured out a while back that Ladybug wasn’t actually 5,000 years old, but she’d always assumed she was, maybe, Anansi’s age? The thought that Ladybug is younger than she is... “Yikes.”

“Yikes is right,” Rena says. “And she has anxiety. So every time you go running face-first into danger like you’re never gonna die…”

“Is this a lecture?” Tortue says.

“Little bit,” Rena responds.

Oh, great. The last thing she needs right now is a lecture from herself of all people.

Rena rolls her eyes. “Listen, Kit, sometimes—sometimes Ladybug isn’t gonna be there. She doesn’t always show up, you know.”

Tortue narrows her eyebrows. “Yes she does?” That’s, like, the big consistency. Aside from that one time where the Akuma and the Sentimonster were in different cities, Ladybug has shown up for every single Akuma battle.

Rena shakes her head. “She has a life, Alya. And, well, sometimes she needs Chat to cover for her.” She looks toward the curtained window, toward the sounds of the battle still filtering in from outside. “And sometimes, Chat and Viperion get taken out early, and the only person who can use the Ladybug is you.”

A chill runs down Tortue’s entire body. The responsibility of using the Ladybug Miraculous—it’s terrifying. It hadn’t even occurred to her that it might pass down to her, that—oh, no. This is… this is what Ladybug feels all the time, isn’t it?

“Listen, however you feel about Nino now?” Rena says. “It’s nothing compared to what it’s going to be. He and I, we’d do anything for each other.” She breathes in, stroking the baby’s head. “Which means that, well, you and I need to stay alive.”

“The Miraculous Cure—”

Rena shakes her head. “It’s good, but it’s not… 100% reliable. Sometimes, Ladybug can’t be there.”

Tortue’s mouth opens, closes. Opens again. “Oh.”

Rena stands and places a hand on her younger self’s shoulder. “Alya, someday, you’re gonna get hurt. You’re gonna get hurt in a way that Ladybug can’t fix, and you’re going to wonder if you even deserve this Miraculous. If you even deserve Nino.” She looks down at the baby with naked fondness in her eyes. “I’m telling you now—you deserve way more than you realize. But if you want to make it to see our wedding...” She trails off.

Tortue waits for her to finish, but Rena doesn’t say anything else. The implications in Rena’s words are disconcerting, and Tortue asks the question that’s burning inside her chest. “Am I going to die?”

“Of course you are,” Rena replies. “You’re going to die a lot. But some of them are going to be harder to come back from, and Alya.” Rena’s eyes bore into hers. “You need to come back. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tortue whispers.

“Miraculous LADYBUG!” Ladybug calls from outside, and pink insects swarm across the room. There’s a brief moment of pain as Tortue’s ankle snaps back into place, immediately replaced by cool relief as the pressure vanishes.

Rena puts a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Reynard, okay?” she says. “About the ring.”

Tortue mimes zipping her lip.

Rena nods. “Thanks,” she says. “Oh, and one more thing—you’re also gonna need to be more careful if you want to get into a good journalism school. Nobody wants to be the professor that killed the Ladyblogger.”

Tortue blinks. She… hadn’t even thought of that. “That makes sense, I think?” she says.

The balcony door creaks open and Carapace peeks through. “Hey, guys,” he says. “How’s everything going in here?”

“Really great!” Tortue says. She eyes her older self. Rena is fidgeting, looking away from her boyfriend’s face, and Tortue realizes—if she doesn’t make the push, Rena isn’t going to do it. “I think Rena has something to tell you.”

Rena glares at Tortue. “Betrayal!” she hisses.

Tortue laughs. “You’ll thank me later.”

Carapace glanced between them, confusion written across his face. “Um, what’s going on?”

Rena takes a deep breath, then carefully hands the baby to Tortue. “Hold her for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Rena looks at her boyfriend, then drops to one knee, fishing the ring out of her flute. “Nino Lahiffe. Will—will you, um…”

Carapace gasps and covers his mouth with both hands, his eyes shining wetly. “Alya?” he whispers.

Both of them sit in shocked silence, staring at each other, frozen, and after a moment, Tortue gets fed up. “Babe,” she says. “Say yes.”

Carapace glances at her, then back and his girlfriend... then lifts his fiancée bodily into the air in a crushing, spinning hug.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he crows in delight.

The portal closes, leaving just the four of them behind.

Ladybug huffs in relief. “You know, I love Bunnyx, but… every time I see her, it’s a brand new disaster.”

Chat looks at her in confusion. “Every? Isn’t this only the second time?”

Reynard sidles up to Tortue Verte. “So, how was meeting your future self?” he says, as Ladybug and Chat quietly discuss something else off to the side. “Mine was a lot more confident than I expected.”

Tortue snorts. “Kind of a butt,” she says. “But then again, that’s not much of a surprise, is it.”

Reynard coughs. “I invoke my right to not incriminate myself,” he says.

Tortue smacks his shoulder. “You’re such a dork.”

Reynard smiles. “Your dork.” He looks at where the portal vanished. “For quite a while, apparently.” He turns back to Tortue. “She tell you anything interesting?”

Tortue smiles, thinking about the proposal, about how happy she and her Nino were. About all the advice her future self gave. She has a lot of work to do.

“Sorry, babe,” she says. “Spoilers.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #djwifi #original content #my fic #Alya cesaire #Nino lahiffe #ninalya #Rena rouge #carapace #turtle!alya #fox!nino #bunnyx #bunnix #mlsecretsanta 2020 #mlsecretsanta2k20 #emma agreste

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thebiscuiteternal · 4 years ago

Text

“Introductions” Reverse Nies, First Meetings, New Jobs, Brotherly Ribbing, Nie Mingjue Is A Brat, Nie Huaisang Stress Cooks, Meng Yao Absolutely Does Not Have A New Crush

__________

In the not quite a week since he has met the younger man, Meng Yao has learned that outside of the battlefield, Nie Mingjue is surprisingly quiet. True, his voice tends to roar when he uses it, but he doesn’t actually use it that often unless provoked either by particularly good circumstances or particularly bad.

After reading the reports Meng Yao had painstakingly compiled for him, the younger man had nodded, seemingly to himself, then stood up and headed for the horse pens, beckoning him to follow. “This is high quality work. My older brother will love you,” he had said then, earnest and concise in the praise.

However, that was almost a full day ago, and the general has said very little since except to send off a message that he couldn’t glean the contents of.

Oddly, Meng Yao finds he doesn't mind the quiet, but his curiosity finally gets the better of him once they are within sight of the Unclean Realms. "What is your brother like?" he asks. He has developed a general idea of the sect from observing its soldiers and cultivators, but he honestly has heard very little about Nie Huaisang, the man who runs it, most of the gossip steadfastly remaining centered around Nie Mingjue himself.

Nie Mingjue snorts, looking amused. "You'll see."

That sounds... vaguely ominous.

Servants meet them to take the horses, and he mentally takes note of how uncomfortable and fidgety the two men seem to be.

Nie Mingjue's good humor vanishes when he also notices. "Is he in the kitchens again?"

One of the stablehands nods. "Tai-zongzhu arrived unannounced just after dawn this morning and Nie-zongzhu entered the secondary kitchen shortly after his departure."

“When was that?”

“A little after chen shi.”

"Ah, shit," Nie Mingjue mutters, scratching the back of his neck. "I'll check on him."

"Thank you, young master."

Meng Yao eyes the younger man as they head towards one of the buildings. "What’s going on? Is there something I should be worried about… like food poisoning?"

Or regular poisoning.

One can never be too sure.

"Ha! No, no, Sang-ge can cook just fine. The problem is that he only ever does it when he's... upset."

He has seen some terrors of the kitchen, but the sight that meets them when they enter still gives him pause. Several fully broken down carcasses -sheep or goats, by the look of the skulls- are neatly arranged in separate piles on the massive main table: meat, bones, hides, offal. A series of buckets are carefully placed for catching the drain off. And in the midst of it all, spattered in blood and busy with a series of knives, is a single man of about the same size as him dressed in plain linens with his hair tied in a severe bun.

"Must've been a hell of a meeting if you couldn't come greet me," Nie Mingjue calls across the room.

The stranger's head shoots up from his work, demeanor immediately brightening. "Jue-er!"

Meng Yao stares as the man -no, wait, Nie-zongzhu- barely takes the time to wipe his hands and wrestle out of the linen overcoat before rushing to hug his younger brother. He still has dried blood swiped across his face, likely from a careless attempt to get errant hair out of his eyes, but neither of them seem to notice, nor care as Nie Mingjue scoops the smaller figure into a bear-like hug.

It is... an interesting look, combined with those facial features.

Quite interesting indeed.

"You can tell me who you were imagining the mutton as later," Nie Mingjue says, putting the other man down. "I've brought you someone."

"Is that so-oh, hello!"

Meng Yao suddenly finds himself the focus of very green eyes, and swallows hard.

"This is Meng Yao, the one I wrote ahead about.” A large hand claps him on the back and the wince that escapes before he can school his expression back to neutrality causes Nie-zongzhu to snicker in a way that absolutely shouldn’t be as cute as it is.

“Jue-er, be nice! He’s not used to that like I am.”

He really should bow. The fact that he hasn't done it already is an insult. And yet the best he can manage is a short nod before he suddenly finds his hands clasped in a tight -and still very slightly bloody- grip and oh, Nie-zongzhu's welcoming grin is even brighter up close.

"And gods, am I glad to meet you! If you can do even half of what Jue-er said you can, you're now my best friend."

“Don’t accept that as a compliment until you see the disaster area he calls an office.”

Nie-zongzhu actually rolls his eyes at his brother. “Just because you can’t find anything in there-”

“It looks like a typhoon went through! Followed by an entire sounder of wild boars!”

This is clearly a very, very old argument, and he’s not sure how he feels about the fact that they’re letting him so freely witness it.

Or the fact that Nie-zongzhu seems to have forgotten he’s still holding Meng Yao’s hands. “Um, could you-”

“Hm?” The other man looks down, then lets go with an embarrassed expression. “Aha, sorry about that. I sometimes forget formality around family.”

“That’s an understatement,” Nie Mingjue mutters, then promptly gets elbowed in the ribs for it.

“Hush, you brat. Anyway, give me just a moment to get this all sorted out,” Nie-zongzhu says, returning to the table and scooping up the outer robe he had been using to cover his clothing. “Then I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

“I can do that. Having some unpacking time will let him brace himself for the paper-filled hellhole.” Nie Mingjue ducks a thrown talus bone and shoots his older brother an unrepentant smirk.

“Insufferable menace. I take back every thought I ever had about missing you,” Nie-zongzhu grumbles as he tosses the robe back on. “Fine, get out of here.”

“As my sect leader commands.”

Meng Yao is still slightly dazed by… all of that as Nie Mingjue grabs him by the shoulder and guides him out towards the main building. “Is… is it always like that with you two?”

“Pretty much.”

“Even around the rest of the sect?”

Nie Mingjue’s grin is sharper than his brother’s, but their family resemblance has never been more clear than in that moment. “You’ll get used to it if you stick around.”

Similar to the ‘You’ll see’ from earlier, Meng Yao isn’t sure whether he’s supposed to take that as encouragement or a threat.

---

It takes him longer to marvel at his new home -the bed alone probably costs more than he has ever made in his life- than it does to unpack what few things he has brought, and yet when he returns to the second kitchen, the mess from earlier has already been cleaned up and Nie-zongzhu is attacking vegetables with the same efficient gusto he had been using on the mutton earlier.

“Come sit!” he calls cheerily when he notices Meng Yao hovering by the door.

Meng Yao eyes the knife movements a little dubiously, but edges towards a chair. “What are you making?”

Nie-zongzhu nods to the massive pot gently bubbling on a fire behind him. “Lucky for me, Zhou Lian and her daughter made a good-sized batch of fresh noodles this morning while I was in here, so I’ve started stew.” He scoops up a pile of diced cabbage and almost idly tosses it in without even looking at the pot. “Is your room alright? Anything I need to change?”

“It’s-” overwhelming “-fine. You have an eye for decor.”

“At least you appreciate it. Jue-er would sleep on a rock if I let him.”

Meng Yao has to bite his tongue to keep from snorting, because Nie Mingjue has been doing almost exactly that in the camps. “Where did he go, anyway?” he asks, resting his chin in his hands. “I thought you two would have stitched yourselves to each other’s sides by now.”

He doesn’t mean to speak so casually. It just slips out, lulled by the air of easy sociability that seems to surround Nie-zongzhu. When he realizes what he has said, and to a sect leader, he chokes slightly and straightens up with the intent to apologize, but Nie-zongzhu just laughs.

It’s a nice laugh.

“If it doesn’t involve butchery, you couldn’t pay him to hang around in the kitchens,” the older man says, moving on to a pile of mushrooms. “He’s already gone out to terrorize the training fields until dinner. You’re welcome to join him if you like, I’m sure he’d be happy to throw a sword at you.”

“That sounds tempting,” Meng Yao says, and though he’s not entirely being sarcastic, it earns him another laugh. “But since assisting you is now my assignment, would it be alright if I stayed here and asked a few questions instead? I would like to be prepared in order to perform to the best of my ability.”

“Oh, of course, of course.” Nie-zongzhu makes an offhand gesture with the blade he’s using, and Meng Yao mentally notes how the movement is more suited to holding, say, a fan than a knife. At least they’re a safe distance apart. “Ask away.”

“One of the servants mentioned an incident with a minor sect leader this morning-”

“Ah. That.” The mushrooms go into the pot and Nie-zongzhu sighs. “Honestly, the whole mess isn’t really his fault, since it’s not like he can control the weather nor how the Wens react to it, and I’ve already thought of some possible solutions. I just needed to burn off the irritation first. Could you pass me the onions?”

Meng Yao obligingly gets up to fetch them. “That’s understandable. Is there anything that I could do to help smooth the situation out?”

When he turns back around, the small basket in hand, Nie-zongzhu is looking away at the stew pot and absently tapping his nails against his lower lip in thought.

He forcibly pulls his gaze away from the motion and looks at the basket instead as he sets it down. “Zongzhu?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry. Actually, Jue-er mentioned transferring reports to maps as one of your strong suits. The maps Tai-zongzhu brought aren’t bad , but the storm damage has already outdated them. If you don’t mind, perhaps you could help me figure out a better picture of what we’re dealing with? After dinner, of course.”

A potentially challenging, yet surprisingly simple request, tailored to his abilities, with an opening that he could refuse and ask for a different task if he so chose. Considering the last few weeks of being ordered about on the worst of menial jobs, it’s a refreshing change of pace.

Much like his new employer, actually.

“Of course,” he agrees, and the smile on his face is genuine.

#mdzs #reverse nies #jin guangyao #meng yao #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #sangyao #fanfic

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 4 years ago

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Hi! Then a prompt, if you don't mind. I've seen lots of arts crossovering bnha and among us, but I haven't seen any fics. Dekusquad playing the game, and Izuku acting like a mischievous kid, while being the impostor would definitely be cute

I love this idea so much! Sorry it's taken a while though - I've never actually played Among Us and had to watch a bunch of videos to learn the rules and strategy :')

'ORANGE IS MY FUCKING COLOUR, ROUND FACE!' Kacchan roared, the static of his microphone muffling his voice and making him sound eerily demonic.

'Like I want your fucking colour anyway!' Uraraka retorted, levelling the blonde's disgust. 'You wanna go, you expired bottle of mayonnaise?!'

'HAAAH?!?!'

‘LOOK WHO’S TALKING, BAKUHOE!’ Ashido joined in, passionately. ‘PINK IS MY COLOUR! GIVE IT BACK!’

Izuku winced at the volume and removed his headphones to prevent his ears from bleeding. They had only just begun playing and he was already starting to regret this.

Luckily, Kirishima and Tsu quickly interjected and managed to convince the three parties to just let it go and switch colours. Uraraka was white, Ashido was pink and Kacchan was orange - although Kirishima had insisted that ‘pink is a manly colour, Bakubro. It suits you!’ which just proved to further enrage the blonde. Before Izuku could completely regret all of his life decisions, however, his screen suddenly changed as the game loaded.

"Impostor"

Izuku's pupils dilated and a smile curved across his face. When Kaminari had initially suggested that the alleged Dekusquad and Bakusquad play Among Us together, Izuku hadn't spared a single thought in his research leading up to the game night. The fact that he had gotten the Impostor so quick was almost too good to be true.

Call him competitive, but Izuku was on a mission to win, and now was the perfect time to see whether his research had paid off.

Fake Tasks: Electrical: Fix Wiring (0/3) Weapons: Clear Asteroids (0/20) Navigation: Stabilise Steering Navigation: Chart Course

He read over the tasks and had a quick look at the map. Simple enough - both groups had decided to start easy so everyone could get used to the game. Muting his mic as he mumbled to himself, Izuku spotted the blue skin of Shoto and smiled. His partner would always have Izuku’s back and while he felt bad about exploiting that, he couldn’t just not take advantage of that!

He wandered over to Shoto’s side and together they ran off to electrical to complete tasks, making sure everyone watched them go. He faked fixing the wires quite well, he reckoned. However, before he could carry out the next step in his plan, Kaminari suddenly called an emergency meeting and everyone turned their microphones on.

‘Hey, Shitface! What’s the-’

'IfYou'reTheImpostorSayWhat.' Kaminari interrupted.

'What?' Iida exclaimed. Poor, innocent Iida.

'HA! The jig is up, pal!'

Calamari has voted. Pinky has voted. FlexTape420 has voted. BabyShark has voted. Uwawaka has voted.

‘Not you too, Uraraka-san!’ Iida sounded so upset that Izuku almost felt bad for him.

‘The plan was foolproof, Iida-kun.’ Uraraka replied, intelligently. ‘Welcome to the real world, rich boy.’

‘What?!’

Dr_5PeePees_M.D. has voted.

‘Todoroki-san! I didn’t expect such a betrayal!’

Izuku shook his head affectionately and clicked on the Skip Vote button. Eventually, everyone had voted and the results appeared. As they had expected, the entire Bakusquad - excluding Kacchan - had voted for Iida, while the others had elected to skip.

What was most interesting was the little blue circle underneath LordExplosionMurder.

‘You think you’re funny?!’ Kacchan roared, while Izuku refrained from sniggering.

‘I think I’m hilarious.’ Shoto answered easily, as Iida was ejected. ‘What’s up? Gonna cry?’

Before Kacchan could reply, however, the game restarted and it was time to mute microphones. Izuku cracked his knuckles and exhaled.

Okay, let’s go.

They were back in the cafeteria; Kacchan immediately stuck close to Shoto, which Izuku thought was rather amusing. Leaving his boyfriend to try and shake the orange creature from him, Izuku busied himself with going to Security. As he wandered down the corridor, he passed Ashido and Kaminari.

Good. Alibis.

Izuku entered the room and had a look at the cameras. Shoto, Kacchan and Kirishima were in Weapons, Uraraka and Tsu were in Navigation and Sero was alone in Communications. This wasn’t good - everyone was travelling in groups. If he killed Sero now, even Kaminari could figure out that it was Izuku.

He tapped Sabotage. His finger hovered over the screen for several moments, before eventually landing on the Lights.

‘Plus Ultra.’

The moment he tapped it, the ship escalated into chaos. He watched as Uraraka ran out of Navigation, while Tsu was in the middle of clicking out of her task. Wasting no time, Izuku vented into the room and killed the lighter green avatar before venting back into Security and running to Electrical to start fixing the lights. Sero arrived shortly after, followed by Ashido and Kaminari.

Once the lights came back on, Izuku followed the other three out of the room and they ventured towards Storage, until a dead body was reported.

‘Microphones on, lads!’ Ashido proclaimed. ‘Right, who, what, where, how?’

‘We found Tsu in Navigation!’ Kirishima instantly chimed in. ‘I was with Todoroki and Bakubro.’

‘Unfortunately so.’ Shoto mumbled into his microphone.

‘Well, I was in Security and I saw that Asu- I mean, Tsu-chan was in Navigation with Uraraka-san before the Sabotage.’ Izuku commented.

Yeah, me and Mina passed Midoriya-kun.’ Kaminari added; Izuku smirked.

‘I didn’t do it!’ Uraraka exclaimed. ‘Deku-kun, how could you say that?!’

‘I’m not accusing you, I’m just saying what I saw and if...’ Izuku began mumbling to himself, fast enough that only Shoto could keep up with him.

‘Fess up, Round Face!’ Kacchan shouted. ‘Stupid Deku saw you in Navigation. You’ve been clinging to that frog since the game started. Who else is it gonna be?!’

LordExplosionMurder voted. HeNeedSomeMilk voted. Dr_5PeePees_M.D. voted. BabyShark voted. Calamari has voted. Pinky has voted. FlexTape420 has voted.

‘I am honestly feeling so attacked right now!’ Uraraka answered before voting.

The screen revealed the results. Everyone had voted for her… Except for the white and blue circles underneath LordExplosionMurder.

‘WHAT THE FUCK, ICYHOT?!’

‘I’m onto you, Bakugou.’ Shoto remarked. Izuku had to mute his mic before he let out a very unattractive snort.

‘If I was the Imposter, I’d have killed you ages ago!’

‘Sounds like something an Imposter would say.’

Kacchan set off an explosion that could be heard from Izuku’s room and they were back in the game. Izuku took to following Shoto for a bit, while the Bakusquad also went off on their own. Keeping Shoto alive was very important for now. Not only would his partner stick by him, but he was also unknowingly helping Izuku win the game by constantly accusing Kacchan.

Izuku ducked into the Reactor, while Shoto continued on towards the Lower Engine. When he was out of sight, Izuku then raced into Security, noticed that the Bakusquad had split up, and vented into Electrical. As soon as he appeared, Sero tried to run, but it was too late. Izuku sliced him in half before venting back into Security and joining Shoto in the Lower Engine room.

It didn't take long before his body was reported.

'I would like to preface this by saying sorry to Uraraka-san for the last round. I feel really bad for accusing you. Love you!' Izuku spoke quickly. Within seconds, his phone notified him of a new text.

Uwawaka [19.34] I've been tricked, I've been backstabbed and I've been quite possibly… Bamboozled.

Me [19.34] You snooze, you lose :P

'Where was damn Deku and Icyhot?!' Kacchan shouted into the mic, drawing Izuku back into the discussion.

'Izuku was with me in Lower Engine.' Shoto calmly explained.

'Yeah, we were together the whole time.' He reaffirmed. 'Where were you guys?'

'I was in Shields!' Kacchan declared angrily.

'Me and Kirishima were in Admin.' Ashido chimed in.

'I was Communications until I found the body.' Kaminari replied.

'Okay, so it's between Bakugou and Kaminari.' Shoto contemplated out loud.

Dr_5PeePees_M.D. has voted.

'I fucking swear, you bastard. I'll end you!' Kacchan roared.

'Well, it's either you or Kaminari. I'll trust my instincts, thanks.' Izuku could practically hear his boyfriend shrug.

'I reckon you and damn Deku are in cahoots with each other and are covering.' Kacchan accused. 'How come neither of you have been killed yet? You're protecting each other!'

'Kacchan, that's ridiculous!' Izuku squeaked into the mic, albeit his eyes were stoic and his face was relaxed. 'Shoto-kun and I have been sticking together, so the Impostor hasn't been able to get one of us alone yet! Stop trying to deflect the attention away from you.'

HeNeedSomeMilk has voted.

'Oh, fuck you!'

LordExplosionMurder has voted.

'Guys, calm down.' Kirishima spoke up. When everyone fell silent, he cleared his throat and continued. 'Anyway… Kaminari has been pretty quiet during all this.'

'Bro!' Kaminari exclaimed, clearly betrayed. 'I thought you were bae! Turns out you're just fam.'

'Bruh!' Kirishima replied, passion laced in his voice.

'Don't let his mediocre vine references sway you, Shittyhair!' Kacchan sounded almost desperate.

'You're right, you're right.' The redhead sighed.

BabyShark has voted.

'I've just gone from low-key flustered to high-key irked.' Kaminari cried out dramatically.

'That's rough, buddy.' Ashido deadpanned before voting.

Kaminari screeched into his mic and also voted.

Blue and green appeared under LordExplosionMurder; orange appeared under Dr_5PeePees_M.D., while pink, red and yellow appeared under Calamari.

'You voted for yourself?!?!' Ashido exclaimed. 'Why?!'

'When a bro betrays another bro, there's no longer a reason to bro on.' Kaminari sniffled, before turning his mic off.

When the screen showed that Calamari was not the Imposter and they returned to the game, Izuku sighed.

The previous discussion had put him in a difficult position. Izuku had two options, either kill Shoto and hope that he can convince the others that the 'Imposter' had staged it, or keep Shoto alive and remain under suspicion. Sure, he had blagged that they'd stuck together in order to stay alive, but that wouldn't work forever.

He'd have to take a risk.

He travelled to Navigation with Shoto and pretended to complete a task, before Sabotaging the O2. When the screen turned red, he turned to his partner and hesitated for only a moment before killing him and running out of Navigation to fix the Oxygen.

Several seconds passed before Shoto knocked once and entered Izuku's room, phone in hand.

'I want to break up.' He muttered, shutting the door behind him.

'Shhh, do you hear that?' Izuku cupped a hand over his ear. 'That's the sound of forgiveness.'

'That's the sound of your boyfriend dying.'

'It was necessary, Sho.' Izuku replied easily, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

'You're enjoying this.'

'Of course I am!' Izuku flashed him a brief smile. 'Only Kacchan suspects something is up. Thank you for helping with that, by the way.'

'Help, I'm dating a monster.' Shoto sighed, before throwing himself onto Izuku's bed, face down.

He giggled in response and turned back to his screen. The Sabotage was quickly dealt with and Izuku staged looking around for Shoto's blue avatar. However, when he returned to Navigation, he saw a red avatar standing over Shoto's body.

What?!

Izuku quickly reported the body and turned his mic on.

'Sooo…' He began, genuine confusion in his voice. 'What the fuck, Kirishima-kun?’

'My internet lagged!' He defended.

'We have the same internet!' Ashido retorted.

'Kirishima-kun, how could you? You killed Shoto-kun!' Crocodile tears streamed down Izuku’s face and his voice choked up, helping him feign his distress.

'Woooooow.' Shoto whispered, voice muffled by the duvet.

'Shut the fuck up, Deku!' Kacchan cut in. 'How do we know you didn't kill Icyhot? I accused you of working together, seems a little sus that-'

'BAKUGOU SAID THE WORD!' Ashido squealed. Even Shoto snorted at that.

'While it's true that killing Sho would definitely turn the attention to me - seen as I've spent the most time with him - isn't that awfully convenient for the actual Impostor?' Izuku started to mumble, albeit he made sure everyone could understand what he was saying clearly. 'I mean, even if I was the Impostor, I don't think I'd be able to actually kill Shouchan…'

'I've heard enough.' Ashido interrupted. 'Sorry, Kiri, but I'm with Midoriya.'

Pinky has voted.

'Well, I think it's damn Deku!' Kacchan shouted.

LordExplosionMurder has voted.

'I don't know who it is!' Kirishima sounded distraught. 'I want to vote Midoriya, but he's right, he'd never kill Todoroki!'

'Thank you, Kirishima.' Izuku was genuinely touched by the comment. His plan was working, but he couldn't vote yet, he had to wait until last.

With one final push, he spoke, 'You're so manly!'

'Bro…'

BabyShark has voted.

HeNeedSomeMilk has voted.

Green and pink appeared under BabyShark, orange appeared under HeNeedSomeMilk and Kirishima had skipped his vote.

'What the hell did you do that for?' Kacchan spat.

'I didn't know who to vote for! I ain’t gonna vote randomly' Kirishima defended, before turning his mic off.

'"BabyShark was ejected." I so want that printed out and hung on my wall.' Ashido commented with a snigger.

Everyone then proceeded to mute their microphones as they entered the endgame.

'What's your plan?' Shoto asked.

'I've waited over a decade for this moment.' Izuku replied, a smirk on his face as he ran towards the orange avatar. 'As my final act, I will spare Ashido-san and taunt Kacchan before I kill him. I will make him suffer for everything he's done and for forcing me to kill you. Besmirched by his own hubris, I want him to know it was me, as I take victory for all to see!'

'Fucking hell…'

'Oh, hello Kacchan!' Izuku cornered the orange avatar in Weapons and smirked. 'Fancy seeing you here.'

Before his childhood friend could do anything, Izuku sliced him open and turned on his mic as the screen revealed that he had won. 'You just got Deku-ed.'

The group chat went mental, voices crying out with shock as they overlapped each other and became unintelligible. Meanwhile, Izuku leant back in his desk chair, smiling innocently.

'Man, that was so fun!' He turned to Shoto, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

Before his boyfriend could say anything, however, an explosion sounded from outside his room as Kacchan kicked his door down.

'YOU READY TO FUCKIN’ DIE?!'

Once upon a time, Izuku would've backed down at such a remark and apologised to the blonde for killing him.

Today was not one of those days.

'I'm a bad bitch, you can't kill me.'

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chevrolangels · 4 years ago

Text

though the stars walk backward

#24: You’re my ex but I think I still have feelings for you, 4.1k

From this prompt list

For @princessjimmynovak This was requested approximately a million years ago and I finally finished it!! Happy belated birthday darling 💜

Feat. Space Ex-Boyfriends who are bad at talking to each other. So, canon. But in space. (Dean has always wanted to be an astronaut, lbr)

read on ao3

“New crop of cadets coming in today.”

“I know.”

Charlie bites into her apple, munching as she scans her screen.

“Hope they’re better than the last ones. Half of ‘em couldn’t tell the difference between a spectrometer and an ammeter.”

Castiel doesn’t comment. He’s too on edge to indulge Charlie today, so he just shrugs, swiveling his chair back in front of the control panel.

Everything’s on autopilot, like always, but he likes to check the nav-console by hand, every once in a while, if nothing but to prove his usefulness. Wouldn't do to have the computer shift a few degrees without anyone noticing and end up halfway to Alpha Centauri.

“I mean, what do they think we do up here? Run pretty tests for fun?” Charlie continues. “Like, one leak is the difference between life and death.”

Castiel makes a noncommittal noise and starts typing in the complicated sequence with his stylus, the starmap projected before him, their course pulsing with gentle blue light.

“I mean, they’re gone for all that time, least the Academy can do is make sure they’re prepared.”

Castiel bites his tongue, typing with perhaps a little more force than is necessary. He loves Charlie, but her ranting is really starting to get to him. Castiel might be the best pilot this side of the Pleiades, but hey. He’s only human.

“If they send me one more programmer who asks me how to do an abstraction, I’m going to―”

“Charlie, do you mind?” Castiel snaps. “I’m trying to concentrate here.”

He regrets it immediately. Charlie does go quiet, but makes a thoroughly overdramatic roll of her chair into Castiel’s eyeline. She raises an eyebrow.

“Somethin’ you wanna share with the class there, bud?”

Castiel exhales, rolling his shoulders.

“Sorry. I just...need to focus.”

“...Right.”

A decidedly sneaky look crosses her face, one that Castiel knows spells trouble.

She leans forward, propping her chin up on her hands.

“Is it because you gotta do the whole ‘Captain Thing’ later?” She asks. “Shake hands, greet the greets, that whole deal?”

Castiel acquiesces.

“Partly.”

He quickly finishes the rest of the code and enters it into the nav-console, sinking back in his seat. Charlie purses her lips.

“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that the teaching staff is coming back, huh.”

Castiel keeps his face carefully neutral, even as he feels the back of his neck grow hot. He fiddles with the stylus in his hands, turning it over and over again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.”

Charlie taps her chin, looking thoughtful.

“What’s it been, two years?” She whistles, drawing it out. “Long time.”

Castiel just grunts. He should be getting up, to change into his uniform for the new batch of arrivals, but he makes no attempt to move.

“Dean’s coming back, too, right?”

Castiel snaps the stylus in half.

Charlie grins.

Castiel looks down at his hand, shoving the broken stylus into his pocket.

“If he is, I haven’t heard anything about it,” he says loftily. “And whether he does or not certainly doesn’t affect me.”

Charlie tilts her head.

“Didn’t they send the transfer roster last week?”

Castiel glares at her. She smirks back, giving him a cheeky wink.

Castiel abruptly pushes back from the console, standing.

“I have to go change,” he says shortly.

Once he gets to his quarters and the door slides closed behind him, Castiel sinks back against it, dropping his head in his hands.

Two years. Two years since Castiel chose to stay, and he chose to leave. Two years, of long lonely nights in front of the computer, of avoiding the Observation Deck, of throwing himself into his work. Two years in which Castiel thought he’d successfully ridded every last trace of Dean Winchester from his life.

After that night, Castiel had thrown away everything he’d ever given him. Every trinket, every gift, every scrap of paper―pathetic trophies of infatuation that Castiel had saved like a fool, pressed between the pages of his books.

The rest of the ship noticed, of course, because how could they not―Charlie, especially, had been particularly persistent in trying to get Castiel to tell her what happened. But Castiel resolutely refused to talk about him, and glowered sufficiently at any mention of his name that eventually people just learned to stop bringing him up.

But time marches ever onward, and the training cycle at the Academy is complete. The institution that Dean fled to in the first place is now spitting him back out, thrusting him back into Castiel’s life.

Castiel presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. How is he going to stand in front of nearly three hundred people and shake his hand? Just the mention of his name made Castiel want to throw something, bringing back all those memories Castiel tried so hard to forget. It may have been two years, but everything that made the man named Dean Winchester the best part of his life is still imprinted in Castiel’s memory, like a brand.

It’s times like this when Castiel wishes he could be like one of Charlie’s computers, erasing all information at the touch of a button. There would be no pain, no memories―like he had never existed in the first place.

Castiel exhales, looking down at his hands.

He’ll just have to make it quick. It really wouldn’t do for the captain to start a fistfight in front of the entire crew.

Roughly thirty minutes later, Castiel finds himself standing stiffly at the end of the receiving line of officers, the collar of his uncomfortable dress uniform cutting into his neck. Something must be off with the temperature regulators in the receiving deck, because he’s sweating, a few locks of hair slipping loose from his hat. He attempts to comb them back into place until Naomi hisses at him to stop fidgeting.

Charlie is beside him as Chief Engineering Officer. She cranes her neck above the crowd, looking at the small group that’s just disembarked from the transport ship.

“Showtime,” she says, adjusting her gloves.

Castiel closes his eyes briefly, breathing in. He can do this.

The new ones pass through first, freshly graduated, young and starry-eyed. Castiel can appreciate their eager enthusiasm. It’s important work they do here on the ship, and they need the best crew to make it possible. They shake his hand vigorously, hopefully interpreting his tight-lipped stare as stoic strength.

Then, the officers.

Hannah, who Castiel has always liked, gives him a warm smile and clasps his hands, telling him how much they missed him. Castiel agrees with the sentiment, but he can barely focus during their conversation, continually darting his eyes towards the end of the line.

The procession inches forward, painfully slow. Cain, Chief Military Strategist, is next, then Billie, and Linda Tran. Crowley, a truly despicable human being, but perhaps the most brilliant Flight Engineer Castiel’s ever worked with, passes with a slimy smile―and then, a face Castiel hasn’t seen in a long time.

“Captain Novak,” Sam says warmly, reaching out to shake his hand. “It’s been a while.”

Castiel smiles back, unable to help himself.

“It has,” he agrees, taking his hand. Despite whatever may have happened between him and his brother, Castiel always liked Sam. “I can’t tell you how much we’ve missed you during your absence.”

Sam nods, dropping Castiel’s hand.

“Believe me, we missed it here, too,” he says, smiling. “You never know how good you have it until you have to spend time way out in the boonies.”

Castiel chuckles. He remembers. The time at the Academy might be necessary, but it certainly couldn’t be called comfortable.

Sam turns, indicating the cadets behind them.

“We’ve got a good group for you here, Cas,” he says, dropping the nickname with easy familiarity. “I think you’ll be happy with them.”

“Good to hear,” Castiel replies. “I’m sure they benefited from having you as a teacher.”

Sam shrugs, ever modest.

Naomi clears her throat from behind them, not-so-subtly encouraging him to move it along. Sam smiles and gives Castiel a small little salute, moving away.

Castiel sighs, tugging at his collar. To his left, he hears a low chuckle.

“Still hate that uniform, huh?”

Castiel stiffens.

He’d know that voice anywhere.

He slowly lowers his hand, looking up into the face he tried two years to forget.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says softly, smiling.

His eyes are bright, shining, like he wants to be here. Funny. Castiel seems to remember he went halfway across the star system just to get away from him.

He extends a hand, holding it out for Castiel to shake.

Castiel clears his throat, but doesn’t move.

“Dr. Winchester,” he replies stiffly. “Welcome back.”

Dean chuckles.

“Oh, right,” he says sheepishly. “I gotta call you ‘Captain Novak’, now, huh? Sorry.”

He looks up, that soft smile returning.

“Old habits, I guess,” he murmurs.

His hand is still extended, in the distance between them. Naomi must be practically foaming at the mouth at such a lack of decorum. Castiel couldn’t care less.

Dean looks exactly the same, perhaps a few more lines around his eyes, still that perfect shade of green. Dean's eyes always reminded Castiel of Earth.

Dean seems to be thinking along the same lines. He looks Castiel up and down, gaze lingering for a moment on the few locks of hair Castiel knows must still be stubbornly escaping from beneath the brim of his hat.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Dean continues. “Even after two years.”

“And three months, six days,” Castiel says coolly.

Dean’s smile fades a little.

“Right.”

He pulls back his hand, awkwardly picking at the edge of the hat in his hands.

Castiel’s heart is beating wildly, but he keeps his face still as stone. Dean shifts uncomfortably, then seems to make a decision.

He leans in, lowering his voice.

“Look, Cas, you know I always hated this formal junk,” he murmurs. “Can we talk later, maybe?”

He sounds so cavalier, so oblivious, and Castiel hates it.

“Catch up?” Dean asks. “Away from all these people?”

Castiel gives him his coldest stare.

“I don’t think so, Dr. Winchester,” he says sharply. “Running this ship is a full time job.”

Dean blinks, and he stares at him, looking like he’s just been slapped across the face. The monster of heartache and pain inside Castiel roars with a vicious triumph.

“I have enough on my plate as it is,” he continues dismissively. “I simply don’t have time to indulge every junior officer who wants to waste my time.”

He straightens, looking away disinterestedly.

“You’d do best to remember that.”

For a moment, Dean doesn’t speak, merely staring at Castiel, his mouth open in disbelief.

Then he remembers himself, and with a glance at Naomi, he stands up straight, placing his officer’s hat back on his head.

“Yeah,” Dean mutters, lowering his eyes. “Well.”

There’s an awkward cough from Charlie to his left. Castiel ignores her.

“It’s good to see you, again, Cas,” Dean murmurs. “Really.”

Somehow, he makes it sound genuine.

He exits the platform, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Castiel watches Dean go an uneasy curl in his throat. The brief flare of vengeful satisfaction is already leeching away, leaving him feeling brittle and hollow.

Naomi is already busy shooing the officers into the reception hall, for the welcome banquet. Charlie finds Castiel’s arm and squeezes it, her eyes sympathetic.

“Cas?” She asks quietly. “You okay?”

Castiel clenches his jaw.

“Think I might have to get back to you on that."

Later, after the banquet, after three hours of restless tossing and turning, Castiel slowly gets up, not bothering with shoes.

Wandering the hallways used to be his favorite pastime. The quiet, the stillness. He still does it, on occasion, when he finds sleep isn’t easy in coming. The lights that try to mimic some semblance of a day and night cycle are dimmed low, the halls empty, most retired to their chambers.

Castiel makes his way up to the Observation Deck, taking a brief look around. There’s no one there, no one to spy on the captain of their ship, stealing away in the night for some much needed solitude. He walks the ramp to the very top part of the observatory, leaning his arms on the handrail. Castiel used to spend hours here. He would sit and watch the stars turn, feeling at once very small and very infinite. He sits now, staring out at the vast darkness before him. It’s utterly quiet, the electric hum of the ship the only sound in the gloom.

Unbidden, his thoughts turn to the last conversation he had here.

Castiel had just learned he had been chosen to be the next Captain, a highly selective process that he had stressed about for weeks. The first person he wanted to tell was Dean.

But Dean had come with news of his own.

A teaching job at the Academy. Highly prestigious, second probably only to Castiel’s role―but that meant―

“Two years,” Dean said to his hands, his voice flat. “That’s how long I’d be gone.”

Castiel felt his brief taste of happiness deflate like a suit after a spacewalk.

“Two years?” He echoed, his tongue thick in his mouth. Dean nodded mutely.

“That’s…”

Castiel bit his lip.

“Wow,” is all he managed.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered.

There was a long moment where neither of them spoke.

“So…”

Castiel hardly dared to say it.

“I’m guessing you knew that when you applied,” he said flatly.

Dean nodded mutely.

“Didn’t really account for you becoming the Captain,” he muttered.

Anger flared within Castiel.

“What, because you think I wouldn’t get it?”

“No!” Dean said immediately, looking up. “God, no, Cas, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“I’m thinking a lot of things right now,” Castiel shot back.

Dean shut his mouth angrily.

“I guess...I guess it’s just hitting me how long two years really is,” he said finally.

Castiel sucked in a breath, stunned.

“You’re not serious,” he whispered. Dean dragged a hand down his face, avoiding his eyes.

“I don’t know, Cas!” He said, voice rising in the quiet. “I mean...you’ll have your job, Cas, I'll have mine...who knows if you’ll have any time for me―”

“Oh, I won’t have time for you?” Castiel repeated scathingly. God, he should have known, it’s just like Dean―shove the blame off himself and project it onto Castiel instead of owning his feelings like an adult.

“Just say you don’t want to be with me and get it over with,” he snapped.

“Cas…” Dean started.

Castiel couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

Dean sighed, breath shaky.

“I―”

Castiel looked up.

He saw the look in Dean’s eyes and he didn’t let him finish. He didn’t let him break his heart.

He ran like a coward.

Castiel wipes angrily at his eyes, banishing the memory. He can’t change the past, so he might as well not dwell on it.

He looks up, at the wilderness of the stars. They shimmer gently against the blank expanse, his constant companions. Castiel can tell you the distance between Betelguese and Rigel, can calculate the time it would take to travel to Sirius and back, but he could never navigate his own life so surely.

If only humans could be as constant as the Heavens.

Behind him, the floor creaks softly. Castiel goes still.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean murmurs.

Castiel turns, glancing over his shoulder.

Dean is standing at the end of the platform, in his sleep pants and shirt. He looks so different out of his uniform. Softer. More like himself.

“Dean,” Castiel says, unable to stop the name from coming to his lips.

Dean responds with a bashful smile, one hand twisting nervously into the hem of his shirt.

“Figured I'd find you here."

He glances out at the stars, then back to Castiel.

“You mind if I join you?”

Castiel swallows, but looks away, saying nothing.

Dean seems to take that as permission, and sits, legs hanging over the edge of the deck, next to Castiel.

There once was a time when they’d sit close enough for their knees to knock, their hands lacing over the railing as Dean told stories, weaving grand tales of the constellations and their histories, while Castiel listened, enraptured.

Now the distance of that memory feels vast, lightyears away. They’re both quiet, not speaking a word. The silence is thin, fragile as glass.

“Cas―”

So Dean will be the one to break it.

He pauses, brow furrowing as he searches for words. Castiel bristles, waiting for it.

“Look,” Dean says, turning to face him. “I get it. You don’t want anything to do with me. But―”

“You’re right,” Castiel interrupts fiercely. “I don’t.”

Dean goes silent beside him. When Castiel finally musters the courage to look up, Dean is staring at him, hopeless and broken.

“Can you at least let me explain?” His voice comes out low and hoarse.

Castiel is torn. Half of him melts, seeing Dean so desperate. But the other half, the rational part of him that remembers the danger of falling for Dean Winchester cautions him, telling him the smartest thing he can do right now is walk away, and never open his heart again.

He lowers his head, exhaling heavily.

“I can’t,” he mutters. “Dean, I just…can’t.”

“You’re angry,” Dean says softly. Castiel scoffs.

“You’re damn right I'm angry,” he mutters. “And I don’t care about any half-assed apology you have for me, not now. Too little, too late.”

He moves back from the railing, pushing himself up. Tears are starting to come to his eyes, hot and bitter, and he’ll be damned if he’ll let Dean see him cry.

“Cas, wait―”

He reaches out, grabbing his hand.

Castiel freezes, rooted to the spot. Dean is frozen too, looking down at their joined hands. He doesn’t let go, though.

“Just...slow down, will ya?” Dean says, and there’s a hint of a laugh there, the way he always sounded when he would talk Castiel off the ledge. But now, it only ignites the rage inside him, and Castiel rips his arm from Dean’s grasp, whirling on him.

“No!” Castiel yells, shattering the silence. “You left, and you don’t get to do this now, you don’t get to come waltzing back into my life like everything’s fine―”

Dean’s eyes widen, he holds up his hands.

“Cas―”

“You broke up with me, remember?”

“No, I didn’t, Cas, will you shut up for two seconds and listen?”

Surprisingly, Castiel does. He blinks, slightly stunned at Dean’s words.

What is he talking about?

“Look,” Dean says quickly, probably to prevent Castiel from shouting again. “I only applied to the stupid Academy because Sammy was too―he was freaking out about the process, so I did it with him, just to show him it was nothing. He’s the smart one, so never in a million years did I think they’d choose me, too.”

Castiel crosses his arms, huffing under his breath. Even if he does hate him right now, it always hurts to hear Dean undersell himself.

“The moment I found out, all I wanted to do was talk to my best friend about how fucking scared I was.” Dean sighs. “And then you said you were picked to be Captain, and it all just...seemed too much.”

He looks down, twisting his hands.

“I panicked. God—somehow had it in my mind that the minute I told you you wouldn’t want to be with me, that there wouldn’t be any room in your life for me anymore. And seeing your face in that moment, you were so excited, and then it just slid off your face…"

Castiel remembers. Shit, he had been so happy, so proud—and when Dean told him…

He’d never been good at hiding his feelings, not with Dean.

He turns over their last conversation in his mind and all at once it seems to click, now that he knows what Dean must have thought.

“I jumped to conclusions,” Dean admits quietly. “I was...so afraid you wouldn’t want to do the long distance thing for two years so I….kind of...let you break us up before I could.”

Castiel stares at him, a painful bubble of emotion rising in his throat. Oh.

Dean continues.

“If anything, I wanted you to ask me to stay.” He lowers his head, dragging a hand through his short hair. “Which was wrong. I get that now.”

He looks up, huffing out a feeble laugh.

“Believe me, Cas,” he says lowly. “It took me all of about an hour to realize how badly I fucked up. But by that time the solar flares were surging and we had to go.”

Dean bites at his lip.

“I looked for you. I tried. But you had locked yourself away in a meeting and I didn’t get to say goodbye. You didn’t let me,” he finishes, a sad bitter note in his voice.

Castiel cannot speak, in shock. He never knew. He’d always thought...after that conversation, that Dean had left without so much as a glance back.

“You…”

He eventually trails off. He has no words.

Dean takes a tentative step forward.

“And you know what it’s like out there. The distances are too far, so they restrict communication.” He shrugs, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t try, though.”

“What?” Castiel asks.

“I tried to send transmissions back,” Dean says, rushing out the words. “Every day for a month. They kept telling me personal messages weren’t allowed. I even tried to break into the control center after hours.”

“Dean,” Castiel breathes, awed and horrified all at once. “You didn’t.”

Dean chuckles.

“Nearly got myself tossed out of the airlock for that one.”

His teeth return to his lip again, his green eyes hesitant.

“Sam said I was crazy. I just told him he’d never been in love.”

Castiel's throat goes dry.

They’d never said, not even before Dean left. But Castiel knew he was. Only love leaves that big and jagged of a hole.

“That’s why,” he says softly. “Why I never heard from you the whole two years.”

“And three months, and six days,” Dean says quietly.

Castiel bites his lip.

“Yeah,” Dean says softly. “I was counting, too.”

He sighs, spreading his hands.

“So, yeah. I messed up. And I get it if you never want to talk to me again, I just―”

Dean never finishes his speech because he doesn't need to. In three swift steps, Castiel has reached him and pulled him in by the front of his shirt.

Dean makes a soft noise of surprise as Castiel presses their lips together, but he quickly gets on board, pulling Castiel in by his waist, kissing him back. And he no longer needs to dream about Dean’s warmth, his lips underneath his, the dry rough touch of his palm coming to cup Castiel’s cheek. He’s here, and he’s real, and he’s never going to let him get away again.

Dean pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead against Castiel’s

“Damn,” he breathes. “I missed that.”

Castiel tightens his grip.

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles. “So am I.”

He licks his lips, looking down at Castiel’s.

“I was an idiot,” he murmurs, and the sound rumbles through his chest. Castiel shivers.

“I should have just told you,” Dean finishes, shaking his head slightly.

“Yes,” Castiel says, bumping their noses together. “You should have.”

Dean laughs, and it’s possibly the most beautiful sound Castiel’s ever heard.

“There’s the asshole I remember.”

They both grin, just basking in their closeness, breathing quietly.

“So.”

Castiel clears his throat.

“So, this whole time, we wanted to be with each other and we just...weren’t.”

Dean chuckles.

“Sounds like it.”

“Wow.”

Castiel shakes his head.

“We’re a couple of dumbasses.”

Dean laughs again.

“Sums up the last fifteen years of us knowing each other.” He reaches out tentatively, fingers brushing Castiel’s. “Don’t you think?”

Castiel smiles, turning his hand up so Dean can thread their fingers together. He knows they so much they still have to say, so much to catch up on to fix everything that’s broken between them.

By a backdrop of stars, Dean kisses him once more, and well, that’s as good a start as any.

#requested approximately five million years ago #and it was your birthday yesterday ahhh!!!!#HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!#hope you like it!!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧#destiel #my writing #ficlet #yeah i made it a space au bc i can #fight me #au #destielficlets

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years ago

Text

Longitudinalwaveme Reviews Some More Old Comics (and One New One), Part 2

Batman #321, “Dreadful Birthday, Dear Joker...!”

The story opens with Commissioner Gordon receiving an invitation to the Joker’s birthday party. “Black tie optional, funny hats mandatory”. A few seconds later, everyone in police headquarters doubles over laughing, the victims of Joker’s, well, Joker gas.

Batman is on the scene only a few seconds later, and starts punching out Joker’s goons. Unfortunately, by the time he’s finished doing this, both Joker and Commissioner Gordon have disappeared.

Eminently Quotable Joker: “Ah---the Batman! What an expected surprise! And what a waste of a perfectly good window! Couldn’t you have used the door?”

As Joker leaves in his Jokermobile, the police officers tell Batman that the Joker also captured Robin earlier that day (by pretending to be a woman with car problems!)

Meanwhile, Selina Kyle, Lucius Fox, and Alfred are talking when the Joker bursts in and kidnaps them as well. Notably, Selina mentions that she’s been having terrible headaches.

Selina Kyle wakes up in a room with Batman; the other kidnapees wake up in the Joker’s “Ha-Hacienda” on his “victim-go-round”.

Eminently Quotable Joker: “Tomorrow is my birthday, and by way of celebration, I intend to eliminate all you who’ve crossed me, while all of Gotham watches! It’s not exactly the catcher’s mitt I really wanted...but it’s a pretty fair second place! HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Hawkman stars in a Hostess cupcake ad!

The Joker murders one of his own henchman with his “BANG!” flag gun for not laughing at his joke.

Eminently Quotable Joker (in response to Robin saying “You’re out of your mind!”): “Gloriously so! Isn’t it wonderful?”

In order to get his audience, the Joker put an ad in the newspaper that states that the “Harlequin Baking Company” will be inviting all of Gotham to sample its wares at the Seaside Coliseum. AND IT WORKS, because everyone in Gotham has the IQ of turnips. A bazillion people come to the Coliseum to get free food.

Joker dramatically reveals himself to everyone and explains that he’s going to blow up all the people he hates with a giant cake bomb. Then Batman arrives and offers himself in exchange for the other hostages. This goes exactly how you’d expect it to go, but Batman manages Batman his way out of the trap, saving both himself and all of his friends.

Joker runs away and jumps into a boat. Batman follows him, they fight for a bit, and then the Joker apparently blows himself up. But he’s not dead, because nothing can kill the Joker. Batman even says so.

This would’ve made a great episode of B:TAS.

Batman #322, “Chaos--Coming and Going!”

And now for something completely different!

Catwoman looks at a bunch of old newspaper clippings of herself, as the comic hints fairly subtly that she might be unwell (just as her headaches last issue did).

Meanwhile, a van is delivering issues of the tabloid The Gotham Guardian...when a thrown bundle of newspapers is intercepted by a boomerang! Captain Boomerang is in Gotham City!

The two men in the van react by promptly trying to run Digger over....only for him to slice their van in half with a boomerang!

Digger yells at them to tell their boss that this was only a warning: the mysterious boss owes him a million dollars, and he wants it in 24 hours or else.

Then Batman shows up out of nowhere and he and Boomerang get into a fight. Digger distracts Batman by using his exploding boomerang to damage a nearby building. This causes some rubble to fall on one of the drivers. Batman goes to rescue him, and Digger vanishes.

Green Arrow stars in a Hostess fruit pie ad!

Batman talks to Alfred about Captain Boomerang, telling him to ask Lucius Fox to find out who owns the Guardian, since he’s probably Boomerang’s next target. He also refuses to call the Flash in for help. “The night I can’t handle a punk like Boomerang is the night I hang up my cowl!”

Catwoman goes to a doctor and it’s confirmed that she is, in fact, dying. She has less than a month to live and the only cure is some Egyptian herbs that have been lost to time.

Meanwhile, Captain Boomerang lets us know that he hates Gotham. “Lor’, but I hate this cronky town! I never would’ve come her from Central City if it wasn’t for my million quid!”

Apparently, Captain Boomerang set up a retirment fund for himself and is ticked off that has money was subsequently stolen.

“It’s really rum--downright ironic! The one time I play the game by their rules--and it’s me who gets taken for a sucker! Well, nobody crosses “Digger” Harkness--and gets away with it intact!” That’s our Digger!

Also, he has a giant boomerang hidden under a tarp.

Catwoman goes to the museum to see a display about cats...and conveniently, some ancient Egyptian medicinal herbs are there. Catwoman determines to take them so she can save herself.

Batman asks the most Irish Irishman to ever walk the pages of the comic book about where he might be able to find Captain Boomerang, but he hasn’t heard anything. Then Alfred calls Batman and tells him that Lucius has discovered that the Gotham Guardian is owned by a corporation which serves as a front for a guy named Gregorian Falstaff.

The man in question is eating dinner at a hotel when he is rudely interrupted by Captain Boomerang, who knocks out Falstaff’s bodyguard and demands his money. Falstaff plays dumb, claiming that the whole thing was an unfortunate accident and offering to write him a check. Boomerang insists that it’s cash or nothing (since he doesn’t trust Falstaff). Then Batman shows up, and Digger throws a smoke bomb boomerang that distracts Batman long enough for him to knock him out with another boomerang.

“You gave it a fair dinkum try, cobber-but fair ain’t enough when you’re dealin’ with the likes of me!’” Didgeridoo! Crikey! Steve Irwin! Can you tell I’m Australian yet?

Selina Kyle tries to call Bruce but can’t get ahold of him, so she decides to take matters into her own hands and pulls out her Catwoman costume.

When Batman comes to, he’s been tied to the giant boomerang.

“Nothin’ permanent, mate--you’re simply tied to my giant rocket-powered boomerang! Only Flash’s super-speed saved him from the original--and without super-powers you’ll never escape this improved version!” So...which one of the giant boomerangs you used to launch the Flash into space are we talking about here, Digger? Because there’ve been at least four at this point.

Boomerang launches the boomerang into the air and it explodes. Digger is naturally convinced that he’s killed Batman, only for Batman to promptly prove him wrong by showing up alive and well. “Nobody could possibly survive a flight on my Doomerang!” Oh, Digger...

Batman explains that he survived by “maneuvering my bonds toward the Doomerang’s rocket-jets--and the ignition-flames freed me! Then I simply slipped away under the cover of all that smoke before the Doomerang took off!” I love that Batman also calls the thing a Doomerang (with a totally straight face, mind you.)

Then Digger throws a boomerang at Batman at the same time Batman throws a Batarang at him. But because Batman is Batman, he wins the boomerang duel and knocks Digger out. Way to take away Digger’s only accomplishment there, Batman. It’s like if Superman won any of his races against the Flash.

Batman decides to investigate Falstaff.

Meanwhile, at the museum, someone who looks like Catwoman is stealing one of the exhibits....

Flash #286, “The Color Schemes of the Rainbow Raider”

This issue introduces the greatest villain of all time...the dreaded Rainbow Raider!

After a long day at work, Barry Allen is heading home...only for an alarm to go off at the Centrex Art Museum! Barry has to promptly go into action as the Flash as Barry thinks about how tired he is. Apparently, his new police chief, Darryl Frye, has made him work overtime three times in one week alone.

Suddenly, a rainbow appears, bewildering Barry, as it hasn’t rained for the past week. Barry runs inside the museum to find the guards crying inexplicably. Barry deduces that the thief has been altering their emotions and realizes that this is probably not one of his established Rogues.

Sure enough, he soon comes face-to-face with the Rainbow Raider!

“Welcome, Flash! I didn’t think you and I would be meeting so soon...but sooner or later we were bound to clash! Allow me to introduce myself! I am the Rainbow Raider---the most colorful criminal this city’s ever seen!” Oh, Roy. You’re so amazingly silly, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Roy shoots a beam of blue light at Barry, who somehow deduces that this was what enabled him to mess with the emotions of the guards. Barry dodges the blast of blue light, but it hit and knocked out by a blast of black light.

The police are suitably baffled by the Rainbow Raider, who, incidentally, signed his crime scene with “The Rainbow Raider was here!” That’s amazing.

Meanwhile, the Flash runs home, for the Rainbow Raider has...uh....sucked all of the color out of his body! Somehow! Wha?

Meanwhile, in a mobile trailer, Roy is gloating to himself. “Now I know I’m ready for the big leagues--on a par with seasoned criminals like Captain Cold and Mirror Master!” Uh...sure, Roy.

Batman and Catman star in a Hostess cupcake ad!

“Roy G. Bivolo is compelled by higher motivations--like art appreciation!”

Roy reveals that he suffers from achromotopsia, a rare form of colorblindness that means he sees the world entirely in greyscale. This fact apparently scuppered his burgeoning artistic career, because the art critics of Central City have never heard of black-and-white artwork even though it totally exists.

Also, Roy’s dad was apparently a, quote, “leading world-renowned optometrist”, and he tried to create goggles that would allow Roy to see color. He passed away shortly after Roy turned 21; having finished the googles just days before.

When Roy tested them a few weeks later, he found that they hadn’t cured his colorblindness...but that they could shoot out “bands of multi-colored solid light particles that I could literally “ride” through the sky”. Roy then uses his father’s notes to unlock even more abilities with his goggles. Eventually, his mother also passed away, and Roy decided to turn to crime.

“Since I was robbed of a brilliant art career as a painter--I think it’s only fitting that I rob others....rob them of the pleasure they’ve derived all these years from priceless works of art I myself have never been able to enjoy! If I can’t see them in all their glory---then neither will anyone else!” Roy...that’s insane.

Barry Allen fails in his attempt to flirt with Fiona Webb, then exposits about pseudoscience. “The color black appears black because it absorbs the light waves of all other colors...without reflecting them! Those black beams the Rainbow Raider enveloped me with must’ve had a similar effect--saturating my body with radiation that prevents me from reflecting any and all light-waves...leaving me totally colorless!” SCIENCE!

Barry uses makeup and hair day to make himself look normal. As a result, he’s 20 minutes late to work and gets chewed out by his boss.

Also: “The unnatural inner-vibrations from this color drain are steadily sapping more and more energy from my molecules by the minute!” More SCIENCE!

Barry is about to get to work when he hears about the opening of the Skytop Art Gallery. Assuming that this would be an ideal target for the Rainbow Raider, he goes into action as the Flash.

Roy has created a distraction by using his emotional manipulation powers to get all of the art patrons to fight each other while he escapes. Barry runs up a building and onto Rainbow Raider’s rainbow...whereupon Raider shoots a blinding light at him, causin him to slip off the rainbow and almost fall to his doom. Luckily, his ability to vibrate through anything saves his life, as he manages to vibrate through a green car he was about to land on.

Barry then finds that he’s turned totally green. ‘I must’ve been vibrating on the precise wavelength of the color green when I passed through this heap--somehow allowing me to regain my capacity to absorb green light-waves!” SCIENCE! He then starts running through vehicles of other colors to regain his capacity to absorb those light-waves, too. Since Raider is colorblind, he can’t figure out what the Flash is up to.

When Raider takes one last blast at the Flash, the effects restore him to normal, and Flash is able to make quick work of the Rainbow Raider.

I love the Rainbow Raider so much.

#flash comics #batman comics #dc comics

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thewritewolf · 4 years ago

Text

After the End Chapter 26: Reverse Crush

First | Previous | Next | Last

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“Don’t leave in suspense, girl!” Alya rubbed her hands together. “Give us those juicy deets!”

“It starts with all four of us getting ready to attack the one place we know about.” Marinette looked at them meaningfully. “Suited up.”

Nino slammed his fist into his hand. “I’m down. Been a while since I’ve thrown down the Carapace hurt, but I can pull it off no prob.”

“Same here.” Alya smirked. “It’ll be nice to be Rena Rouge one more time.”

“And you know I’m more than willing to teach those guys a lesson on why you don’t kidnap super heroes.” Adrien crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Marinette smiled, an expression that didn’t reach her eyes. “Then I get the feeling that you’ll like this part of the plan the best”

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

Ladybug had her belly to the roof and a red spotted T-shirt cannon held in her hands. Her spot gave her an ideal vantage point on the building she had broken Chat Noir out of the week before. The only stronghold of the Gentlemen that they knew of, and the location of at least one of their lodestones.

Well, for now, at least. If everything goes right today, then it wouldn’t be housing much of anything anymore, let alone lodestones.

She had already renewed her transformation while she was alone, leaving her with nothing to do to pass the time. Minutes of waiting felt like hours as the tension built, her eyes locked on the door and hidden windows of the building. She nearly leapt out of her skin when her communicator vibrated, and almost forgot to count how many times it went off.

Twice. Rena Rouge was in position.

Shortly after that, there was a solitary buzz. Chat Noir had found his way to his spot - she could just barely see his outline from where she was, the black of his suit blending well into the shadowy alley. Three buzzes followed close behind, which was fitting. Carapace was close to Chat after all. He’d need to be for this to go well.

With all of them in position, she took a deep, steadying breath and sent an empty message to each of them. She imagined three devices going off, each of them activating their powers. The time crunch was on now.

Chat Noir streaked across the open road, his claws crackling with barely contained destructive power. He slammed it into the solid stone of the building.

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

“But won’t they just turn on the lodestones or whatever to stop us from doing that?”

Marinette shook her head. “That’s why we turn on our powers first. That aura doesn’t work on already active abilities.”

“Well, alright.” Alya tapped a steady rhythm against the arm of her chair. “Let’s assume that works out - I don’t see why it wouldn’t. And I can see why you’ve got Carapace on hand there, but from what you were saying, can’t they just activate the lodestone and bring it pretty close to the Shelter?”

“Yeah,” Nino chimed in, tugging at his cap. “That’ll def take even my shield down, right?”

“Yes, which is why they’ll do it.” Marinette leaned back and steepled her fingers. “And that’s exactly what we want.”

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

The illusion gripping the building guttered out just in time for the windows to be thrown open and the door to shake off its hinges as a whole mess of henchmen funneled out of it. Panic was on their faces, caused no doubt from the massive cracks in the stone of the building and from the way it was swaying unsettlingly in the winter winds.

Panic quickly turned to rage when they saw Chat Noir running backwards, toward the green glowing shield that Carapace had summoned to full size just as they began pulling out their weapons - everything ranging from clubs and medieval looking crossbows to more… modern arms.

“Out of the way, you idiots! That shield will stand up to everything you can manage!” A familiar voice cut through the rabble and pushed their way to the front.

This representative of the Gentlemen was no longer the calm and collected individual that Ladybug had sent running last week. There were dark rings around his eyes, and his hair was disheveled as if he had only been half paying attention when combing it. But the most important detail was what he was holding - a delicate piece of masonry, old and brittle, covered in new, deep etchings that no doubt compromised its integrity even more.

It was a gamble for them to bring it out, but they couldn’t go back into the building. ANd Ladybug knew that the man would at least want to claim a miraculous in exchange for its loss. After all, how much of a gamble could it be for them? He was surrounded by hired muscle and, shield or no, the superheroes lacked any super strength. Or even a catalcysm, since Chat had just ‘wasted’ it. Ladybug’s yoyo would be useless too, transforming into a normal yoyo before it could ever reach it.

What could they possibly do to thwart them?

Ladybug took careful aim with her T-shirt cannon, a grin on her face.

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

“Seems risky,” Adrien said with a frown. “Should we really leave it up to chance, using whatever the Lucky Charm gives us?”

Marinette held up one finger. “First, it hasn’t ever failed us yet.” Another finger joined the first. “Second, that’s why I’ll be the first one to summon my power, long before anyone else gets into position. If I get something that I just can’t use, then we’ll try again another time. It’ll probably be a sign from the Ladybug miraculous that then and there isn’t the best idea anyway.”

“Alright, so we destroy the lodestone thingy.” Nino tilted his hat back and scratched his head. “That still leaves us with a bunch of bad hombres and no super strength to toss ‘em around. What’s the plan to round ‘em up with just us four?”

“Simple.” Marinette smirked. “We don’t.”

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

The cannon had even more power to it than she thought. The Gentleman was clutching his wrist and even from here she was pretty sure it was broken. Much like that delicate piece of stone that was shattered into hundreds of pieces on the unforgiving cobbles of the Parisian streets.

Uncertainty gripped the little mob of armed henchmen as they desperately tried to split their attention between keeping an eye on the two heroes that they knew about and scanning the skyline for their mysterious T-shirt-based sniper. Naturally, she didn’t give them a chance to spot her.

A few tentative bolts and bullets were fired into Carapace’s shield, but none of it so much shook the energy field.

Gritting his teeth, the Gentlemen said, “Well played you little bastards. But there is no escape for you now - your time is limited and there is no one coming to help you now.”

It was unfortunate timing for him then that the blaring of police sirens barrelling down this very street arrived at just that moment. Bright headlights piercing through the relative dark disoriented the unruly bunch, which Ladybug took as her moment to strike.

With the lodestone destroyed, her and her yoyo remained at full strength - a few quick swings was enough to rip the weapons from their hands and pull them away, just as the Parisian police force emerged for their mass arrest.

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

“Clever!” Alya leaned back, whistling appreciatively. “Although I’ve still got two questions.”

“Go ahead,” Marinette gestured toward her best friend, one arm hanging over the back of the chair.

“First off - what about that library of intel you guys said they had? Even famous heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t get away with just walking away with armfuls of damning evidence against a gang.” ALya raised an eyebrow. “And second, where am I in all this? Catboy and turtlelad have got their time in the spotlight, and you get your badass moment. So what about me?”

Marinette smiled. “You’ve got the answers to both of your questions right there.”

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

The three of them returned to the Agreste mansion and turned off their transformations. It wasn’t long before the window opened and closed again, seemingly by itself.

There was something like a heat wave in the air as Rena Rouge dropped her illusion of invisibility - and with it, a packed dufflebag.

Marinette unzipped it and couldn’t help but clap excitedly when she saw that it was filled to the brim with ledgers and notebooks - there was bound to be some important info in here, she was certain of it.

“How’d it go, babe?” Nino pressed a kiss to Rena Rouge’s cheek as her transformation dropped.

“They were way too busy staring daggers into you two to be looking back at their condemned building.” Alya grinned. “No one suspected a thing.”

Adrien began pulling out the papers, a strange look on his face. His eyes met Marinette’s and she could see something glimmering behind his eyes. She recognized it immediately.

Hope.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Adrienette #Nino Lahiffe #Alya Cesaire #djwifi #MarichatMay2021 #ml fanfiction #my writing #After the End

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plaidbooks · 4 years ago

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Can I request a Barba x reader based off Barba returning to SVU? He’s working as the defense in the reader’s coming trial with Sonny representing her. The reader and Barba dates before he left the show. He needed to move on and the reader wasn’t ready to leave New York. Barba genuinely believes the defendant is innocent and is still in love with the reader, but can’t see his friend go to jail for something he doesn’t believe he did. Angst or fluff; however you want to end it! Thank you!!

Time Heals

A/N: Yesssss. I love this; this is one of my favorite things I’ve written in a while tbh. I hope you enjoy, anon <3

Disclaimer: This is written before the episode Rafael comes back, so sorry for any inconsistencies for when that happens!

Tags: rape mention (reader was date-raped), angst with a happy ending

Words: 2102

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @glowingmess @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws

(gif by @sseureki)

You rubbed your left hand nervously, a tick you picked up three years ago, waiting for Sonny to come back from the coffee machine with a cup for you both. You tried to stop your hands from shaking, your knee bouncing and your breathing picking up as you remembered the night that had changed your life, the reason you were in Sonny’s office in the first place. You had been attacked nearly two months ago; a date that had ended in you being drugged and waking up without your clothes on, sore everywhere. It still made you feel sick to your stomach, even though you had been a detective with SVU, dealt with victims of just this kind of thing for years. Olivia had sent you to a great therapist, and the nightmares had stopped soon enough.

Sonny finally came back, placing the coffee on the table in front of you, and you mumbled a thanks. “How are ya feeling, [Y/N]?” he asked softly, placing a hand over yours. Sonny was your partner once upon a time, and you were still close.

“I wish people would stop asking me that,” you replied, smiling. He still looked concerned, so you said, “I’m fine, Son. Just…a little shaky, still. I just want this over and done with.” You sighed heavily, running a hand over your face.

“I know, doll. Soon, I promise. We got Adams on tape leaving the bar with you, taking you back to your hotel room, leaving the hotel an hour later, and his confession. We got this scumbag,” he said with conviction.

You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee. Kendrick Adams was the man you had gone on a date with…and the man who date raped you. He seemed pretty upset about it, but you had no sympathy for the man who had forced himself inside you. The one silver lining is that he had used a condom; you had no STDs, and you weren’t pregnant.

“Has he got a new defense attorney yet?” you asked, idly stirring your coffee with the small, wooden stirring stick. His old attorney was court appointed, and was not doing a good job representing him. Fin, as much as you loved the man, wasn’t so sure Adams was guilty. He thought that during the confession, Adams seemed confused, upset, and he recanted three days later.

“Call it a gut feeling,” Fin had said, earning a glare from you and Sonny. Both of you were ex-Detectives, and you both knew the accuracy of gut feelings, and while you could admit that Fin was usually correct, you were positive that he wasn’t. Not this time.

“Yeah, I’m meetin’ them today. I’m not sure who it is, though,” Sonny replied, shuffling some papers around. “In 30 minutes, actually.”

“Mind if I hang around? I’d like to know who’s trying to defend that asshole.”

Sonny gave you a long stare. “Technically, you’re not allowed to. But, if you were to, I don’t know, leave 5 minutes beforehand, bump into them….”

You gave him a smirk. “Thanks Sonny.”

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

You didn’t even get a chance to make your early exit before there was a knock on the door, presumably the defense attorney. You glanced at Sonny, who rose his eyebrow before saying, “uh, come in.” Your breath caught when in walked Rafael Barba. Time seemed to stop as his bright green eyes slid to yours, locking there in surprise. He looked…different. Not just the salt and pepper beard. But he looked happier than the last time you had seen him, more…alive. He still had a deep sadness in his eyes, but the last time you had seen him, he was defeated, a shell. Now, he at least looked like a person again. He resembled the man you had fallen in love with all those years ago. You unconsciously rubbed at your left hand, and his eyes flickered down to the motion. Just like that, the spell was broken, and you sucked in a deep breath.

“Please tell me this is a joke,” you muttered, suddenly remembering why he was there, that this wasn’t random chance. Rafael simply gaped at you. “Are you really a defense attorney? For fucking Adams?”

“Nice to see you, too, Detective,” Rafael said, eyes narrowing. “Yes, I am defending Adams. And you’ll find that my client is innocent.”

“Innocent my ass,” you sneered, standing angrily.

“[Y/N], let’s not—” Sonny started, but Rafael cut him off.

“He is innocent, and I’ll prove it in court. That is, unless ADA Carisi is willing to talk deals.”

You stomped up to Rafael, blood boiling, getting right up into his face. “Fuck deals, Raf. I want that bastard dead. Rotting in a fucking cell.”

“What do you have against this guy, huh? Call you a bad name in the interrogation room?”

Sonny spoke up again. “Barba, don’t—”

“Cause he fucking raped me!” you screamed in Rafael’s face. You watched his face go through every human emotion you could think of in the span of a few seconds, ending with a profound remorse.

“[Y/N]…I’m—” he started, but you shoved past him, slamming the door to Sonny’s office as you left, tears falling freely down your face. This was the first time you had seen Rafael in three years, and this was not how you thought this reunion would go. Your heart still strained when you thought about his bright green eyes. And that beard certainly made him more attractive. But he was defending your rapist, and you didn’t know how you could deal with that. You rubbed your left hand nervously, making your way outside, trying to find some air.

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

Sonny informed you that him and Rafael were unable to come to a deal, and that Rafael was going for a plea of not guilty. You wanted to hate him, to be pissed and to just…hate him. But you couldn’t. You had spent too many years loving Rafael, and a small part of your brain kept thinking that if Rafael thought Adams was innocent…well, maybe something was there. But how could you be so wrong? How could all of SVU be so wrong?

“We’ve been wrong before,” Fin mentioned, shrugging nonchalantly, as if this wasn’t your life. It made you want to scream.

You tried to move on with your life, enjoy your retirement, stopping by One Hogan Place to talk with Sonny whenever he asked you to. He made sure to schedule you on separate days from Rafael, so that you wouldn’t run into him, and you were forever grateful. But just knowing he was in the same city as you made the hairs on your arms stand up on end, and you weren’t quite sure if that was a good thing or not.

Finally, you couldn’t avoid him anymore, not when he showed up at your front door, a bouquet of multicolored roses in his hand.

“Can we talk?” Rafael asked, hopeful.

“Should I have counsel?” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shuffled awkwardly on his feet. “[Y/N]…please…not about the trial. About us.”

Sighing, you moved out of the way, letting Rafael enter your apartment. It felt small with him there, much smaller than the place you both shared a lifetime ago. He glanced around appreciatively, before turning back to you, offering you the flowers. You took them, closing your eyes at the beautiful scent. He followed you to the kitchen while you found a vase, filling it with water.

“You still look beautiful, cariño,” Rafael murmured as you placed the flowers in the vase. You felt your eyes fill with tears, but you blinked them away rapidly, not wanting him to see.

“Why are you here, Raf?” you asked, trying to keep your voice from wavering. Looking at the sadness in his eyes, it was a struggle to not cross the distance between you, to not hug him until he was happy again.

“I—I wanted to see you. I told you when I left that I still loved you; that hasn’t changed.”

You swallowed, rubbing at your left hand. You looked down at your hand, the faint tan line on your ring finger still visible, even after these three long years.

“Then why are you defending Adams?” you breathed.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Adams is…an old friend.” Rafael’s eyes locked to yours. “I know him, [Y/N]. He didn’t do this. And I refuse to see him go to jail for it. The evidence is circumstantial, at best, and you know it. You’re a detective—”

“I’m not a detective, Raf. Not anymore. I…I haven’t been a detective since you left. I just, I couldn’t do it anymore…” you trailed off.

“Oh,” was all he said. The silence dragged on, both of you unsure of what to say. He confessed that he still loved you, and he did honestly believe that Adams was innocent. Maybe he was right; the evidence was circumstantial…besides the confession, which Adams recanted shortly after. Liv told you he was claiming that you had seemed drunk and that he had helped you to your room. That he had held your hair while you vomited, then helped you to bed, staying with you until you fell asleep, hence why he was there for an hour before leaving. But if that were the case, then who assaulted you? Rollins and Kat already interviewed the hotel staff, the people on the same floor as you, and the security in the hotel, with no new leads.

“Where does this leave us?” Rafael finally asked, eyes searching yours. “Do you still…do I still have a chance with you?”

You swallowed under his intense stare. “I—I don’t know, Raf. I still…I still have feelings for you. I know that we agreed to take a break while you…figured things out. But that was three years ago, Rafael! I just—I don’t…and with all this shit with Adams—”

“I understand. Really, I do. I’m…I’m willing to wait for you. Hell, I’m willing to start all over again, relearn everything about you. Please, just give me a chance,” Rafael pleaded, taking a step closer to you.

“How do I know you won’t leave again?” you murmured, stopping him in his tracks.

His face fell, his hands clenching at his sides. “I’m here to stay; I promise.”

“As a defense attorney?”

Rafael winced. “Not all defense attorneys are bad, [Y/N]. Besides, I’ll only do it if I’m convinced my client is innocent. I’m not in it for the money; I’m in it to keep innocent people out of jail. I’m—it’s still me, cariño…I haven’t changed that much in the past three years. I’ve just…I’ve found myself again.”

You looked at him, really looked. Rafael’s hair had grey streaks, a speckled beard hiding that sarcastic mouth you loved. His bright, seafoam eyes were still alert, intelligent, locked to yours in question. He had more lines on his face, but the dark circles that used to be under his eyes had lessened. Even the way he held himself, the way he spoke, seemed lighter, less stressed. You suddenly wished, for the millionth time since he had left, that you had gone with him. But, at the time, you couldn’t force yourself to leave New York. Even if it meant losing Rafael for a little. Neither of you knew it would be this long. This date with Adams was actually your first date since Rafael left.

“I don’t think it would be good for Sonny’s case if I dated the defendant’s defense attorney,” you said, a soft smile pulling at your lips.

Rafael grinned, coming to you and pulling you into a tight hug, his cologne comforting, even after all this time. He placed a kiss on your cheek, his beard tickling your skin.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Rafael murmured into your ear.

“I am, too,” you whispered back, fresh tears in your eyes. “But, if not Adams…who?”

He leaned back to look at you. “I don’t know…I wish I did, but Kendrick doesn’t know, either. He really did just take care of you before leaving you in your room. My best guess is one of the hotel staff…maybe the bartender? They have a separate elevator; I’ll have Liv check the tapes.”

You nodded. “And us?”

“I agree that we should wait until this trial is over. Then…dinner?”

“Dinner sounds lovely,” you replied, giving Rafael another hug. It would take time to get back to where you were before. But maybe this time, the two of you would get married.

#rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #I'm not tagging this as spoilers #because this is all speculation #Anonymous

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yeenybeanies · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Lost

it’s star wars day!! what a fine day to have my heart torn from my chest with the clone wars finale :’) WELL THIS IS VERY OLD LMAO it’s been in my drafts since may 4th i did not proofread this & i probably will not do so until tomorrow EDIT i have proofread it & made my tweaks & it is Good To Go :>

star wars | rex & pomfree ( oc )

4,395 words

mild language warnings

reblogs > likes!! feel free to leave comments in the tags!! thanks!!

Breathe! Air and dust and dirt rush into his lungs. The clone jolts, consciousness returning like a punch to the face. If only it was a simple punch that knocked him out, though. That would have been way less painful . . ..

Soft grunts and groans fill the air as the clone trooper pulls himself from the him-shaped indentation in the dirt. He can still stand. He can move his arms and his back and his neck. Nothing seems broken ( miraculously ), but everything is sore regardless.

“ This is Captain Rex; can anyone hear me? I was––– ” static. He looks down to the comlink on his forearm, all the buttons smashed and broken. Useless. He grimaces, then turns his attention to the surrounding jungle. Where is he? Where’s the ship? . . . Where is his helmet? A cursory glance at his immediate surroundings shows no signs of the blue-painted headgear.

Rex stands up with a final groan and takes a few steps, searching for signs of––well, of anything. Smoke, blaster fire, voices, tracks . . .. The ship was going down, and he fell out of it before it crashed. Surely it’s not too far off. He curses a little under his breath; the jungle canopies of this planet are too damn high and thick for him to be able to see anything more than a few feet away. The only option now, as far as he can see, is to start walking in the direction he thinks the ship landed in.

“ Hello? Anyone out there? ” Even cupping his hands around his mouth doesn’t help his yells travel very far. The jungle is tight. It’s a hassle just to walk around. Rex grumbles as his boot catches on a ground vine for the umpteenth time. He hasn’t tripped yet, but––ack! Spoke too soon. Just seconds later, he’s snagged again, and falls forward, onto his hands and knees. Teeth clenched, the trooper slams a fist into the spongy jungle floor, allowing his frustration to vent for just a moment. How the hell is he going to get out of this one?

Calm. He needs to be calm. Getting mad isn’t going to solve anything. ( Blast, he sounds like a Jedi. ) Rex takes a breath and tugs his foot free yet again. He shifts himself into a crouch, runs a hand over his short, blond hair, and tries once more to assess his surroundings. In every direction, there is just more jungle. But––oh? He catches a glimpse of white amidst all the green undergrowth to his right. One brow raised, Rex pushes his way through the brush to investigate. He parts the vines and leaves and finds . . . yes! His helmet! At least something is going his way in this god-forsaken jungle. Rex leans forward to pick the familiar item up, silently praising that he managed to stumble across it ( literally ). As he brings it to his head to put it on, though, a startled cry makes him jump. Rex looks up to see a little . . . creature dangling from the helmet lip. It screams when it looks at him, and he yelps right back, immediately dropping both it and the helmet. The latter clatters to the jungle floor, but the former––unexpectedly, the former drifts down in a much more controlled manner, gliding on thin membranes––or perhaps clothing––between its arms & legs. It lands a few feet away and stares up at Rex, eyes wide.

What the hell?

Rex stares back for a long moment. It . . . isn’t running away. It’s not attacking either, though. It’s a curious-looking little thing. It looks almost human, though significantly smaller––maybe five, six inches tall at most. Slowly, tentatively, Rex kneels down to retrieve his helmet, though he doesn’t take his eyes off of the creature.

“ Easy now . . . ” he says, hoping to placate any potential hostilities. “ Not gonna hurt you. I’m with the Grand Army of the Republic. ” Hell, he doesn’t even know if the damn thing speaks Basic.

“ You are a clone. ” Ah. So it does speak. Rex blinks, a little surprised, but nods his head. The creature looks up, way up to the high canopies. “ You came from the crashed ship? ”

“ Huh––erm, yeah. Yeah, I, uh, fell out of it. Did you see where it landed? ” A spark of hope flares up in his chest. This little critter might be the key to finding his comrades!

They shake their head––a gesture that nearly goes unnoticed due to their size. “ Knocked me down from the top when it came through. Best way to see would be . . .. ” They point up. This time, Rex follows their gaze, confused.

The top? This thing was at the top? The trees have to be a couple hundred feet high! How could they have gotten all the way up there? So many questions flood the trooper’s mind, but he shakes his head. Focus.

“ I gotta climb all the way up there? ” The very thought is daunting. ( Really, how could something so small make it up there? ) Rex gives the creature a disbelieving look, but they just nod right back at him.

“ It is the best chance, ” they assure. “ I need to go up too. It’s dangerous down here for us. I need to get back home. ”

Rex narrows his eyes. “ So what you really need is for me to take you up there. There’s no benefit at all for me. Just a waste of time. ”

“ No! ” The creature waves their little hands, alarmed. “ No! You really can see! And it’s easier to move up there! ” There’s obvious panic in their voice, but Rex isn’t sure if it’s because of him, or because he might leave them. He rolls his eyes and takes another look up the giant tree trunks.

One thing is for certain: he cannot see anything down there. Flares wouldn’t go above the treetops either, so they’d be useless from the ground. Rex contemplates, tossing the idea around in his head, and wrinkles his nose when he reaches a decision.

“ Alright. I’m going up there. I’ll take you too, but if this turns out to be for nothing, I’m gonna drop you back down. ” It’s an empty threat––something the little creature quickly picks up on. They beam up at him, looking just elated. Rex dons his ( now unoccupied ) helmet and . . .––well, he isn’t sure if he should just grab them, or if he should go about carrying them some other way. Thankfully, they solve the problem for him. They’re fast; they race to his boot and scale his leg like it’s nothing, and then the rest of him, all the way up to his shoulder pauldron. He wasn’t expecting that, but . . . it works.

“ Right . . .. Hold on tight. ” Rex pulls a blaster from his holster and attaches an ascension cable. The lowest branch on the tree before him is . . . still pretty damn high up. His grimace deepens; he isn’t sure that the cable is long enough to reach, but he takes aim and shoots. It flies out with a hiss, racing parallel to the trunk for a good few seconds before . . . yes! It just barely reaches the branch’s underside. Were Rex a few inches shorter, he’s not sure it would have made it.

One last check to make sure the creature is secure on his shoulder ( somehow they seem even smaller up close ), then Rex starts the climb. He has to pull himself up the trunk a few steps so he can secure the cable to his belt, but then he’s able to activate the wench that gradually pulls them up.

“ So. ” Even with the wench, it’s still going to take a while to scale a tree this tall. Rex keeps his eyes upward, but he does nod slightly towards his company. “ Got a name? ”

“ Yes. I am Pomfree. My friends call me Pom. ”

“ Pom. My name’s Rex. You, uh . . . you said you live up in the canopies? How’d you get up there to begin with? ”

“ Oh, my kind comes from up in the treetops. We are many tribes that have always been up there. Those that fall to the floor . . . ” Rex feels them shudder, “ usually they do not come back up. It is dangerous. And impossible for us to climb so far. ”

“ No kidding . . .. ” Rex isn’t sure he would be able to climb this thing without an ascension cable, let alone someone like Pom. “ You can glide, though, right? ”

“ Yes, but . . . ” they pull one of the membranes from their sides––Rex can now see from his peripherals that it is indeed clothing––and show a stitched-up tear, presumably recent. “ I tore it on a branch in the confusion, and I hit my head shortly after, so . . .. ”

So that’s how they got to the ground. Rex feels a pang of sympathy for the little creature. He knows all about being thrown into hostile environments, but he’s a soldier. Pom, he imagines, is not.

“ Why are you here? ” Their question pulls Rex from his thoughts. He shoots them a glance, a brow raised under his helmet.

“ Told you: I fell from my ship while it was––– ”

“ No––why are you on our planet? We are not a part of the war . . . are we? ” There’s a twinge of fear in their voice––something Rex is, unfortunately, quite familiar with. This terrible war has ravaged many planets.

“ Erm . . . well, the Separatists have established a fort here, despite your apparent neutrality, so we’ve come in to deal with it. ” That’s putting things a little lightly. He doesn’t really want to scare Pom more. “ It’s pretty far from here, though. Don’t think you’ll be seeing any part of it anytime soon––if at all. ” Hopefully. Civilian casualties happen, but Rex still would like to minimize them wherever and whenever he can.

His answer seems to calm Pom, if only a little. They look up the cable that’s pulling them along. They’ve almost reached the branch. Once Rex gets a hold on it, Pom moves to somewhere a bit more stable so the clone can have his full range of motion and climb his way up to the branch’s top. It’s easier said than done; the damn thing is thicker than Rex is tall. He nearly slips once, and gets both of their hearts racing. He does assure Pom that he’s okay and he’s got them, and manages to make it to the dorsal surface. Thank God the bark is rough and filled with handholds.

They’re not even halfway up the tree, though. Rex cranes his neck, looking up at the vertical distance still ahead of them, and sighs. The droop of his shoulders makes Pom scramble for a moment to maintain balance.

“ This . . . is gonna take a while. ” Dismayed but determined, the captain readies his cable again, takes aim, and shoots for the next-nearest branch, way high up. It’s going to take, he suspects, at least three or four more cable trips to get up to where they need to be.

Pom is fairly chatty, full of questions. Rex answers what he can. Being an older clone, he’s a bit more aware of the universe around him, and of the nuances of the war. The little being watches him with those wide, curious eyes, soaking up all he has to say. It’s cute, in a way; Rex just wishes he had more to tell them than stories and news about violence and suffering. He’s sorry that the war has come to this planet.

Once they reach the underside of the second branch, the two rinse and repeat as they’d done with the first. Rex expels a breath bordering on exasperation as he looks upward. Only now are they about halfway up the gigantic tree. He notices that, at their current height, their surroundings look different than they had on the jungle floor. It’s brighter, if only marginally so. The foliage is comprised more of leaves and vines, as opposed to the heavy roots and trunks and ferns on the jungle floor. Rex pushes past a curtain of moss as he walks along the bough, searching for another spot to aim his cable.

“ Wait. ” Pom knocks their little fist on the side of the trooper’s helmet.

“ What? You see something? ” He does not like the sudden worry in their voice. Reflexively he rests a hand on the hilt of one of his blasters.

“ No, I hear . . . –––get down! ”

Rex ducks just in time. Mere moments after their warning, a beast erupts from the foliage, its claws and teeth just barely missing his head. Rex crawls forward a few feet and twists onto his seat. Whatever it is, it seems to be only about half the size of a man, but it is mean. It looks like an alien cross between feline and reptile, and sports two sets of climbing arms and a smaller set of what appear to be prey-grabbing arms. He doesn’t get to observe much more of it before it launches at him, all arms outstretched. Rex falls backward, letting the beast sail over him again. He quickly flips himself over and jumps to his feet, ready to move, when a sharp cry brings his attention back to his passenger. The little being clings to his pauldron, legs flailing. Dammit. He’d nearly forgotten about them in the–––

“ Look out! ”

Rex throws up an arm just as the beast reaches him, its teeth clamping down on his gauntlet. A few reach his skin, but he pays it no mind, much more distracted by the claws slashing at him.

No . . ..

The beast isn’t aiming for him; it’s aiming for Pom! The little one yelps and struggles to maintain their hold amidst the panic and the pandemonium. Rex shoves the creature off with a heavy knee to its gut and, without really thinking, grabs Pom. They squeak and struggle in his hold, but he keeps firm. He turns and dashes to put some distance between them and the creature while its still recuperating, his free hand aiming the cable launcher upward. There isn’t any time to pick an optimal branch; he selects one that looks suitable enough, shoots, and starts ascending as soon as it hooks in.

“ I’ve gotcha, kid, ” Rex says, “ that thing isn’t gonna–––augh! ”

Sharp pains pierce the flesh between his armor. The beast jumped up after them, and has its claws dug into his left leg. With both hands occupied, the trooper can only curse and kick at it, quickly growing desperate to shake it off. It’s not interested in him in the slightest; it’s trying to climb him to reach Pom, now held as far out as possible.

Bastard. Rex grits his teeth and rams his heel into the creature’s face. His grip on the blaster is starting to slip; he needs to ditch this thing fast.

“ Pom, I’m gonna throw you, ” he says. He doesn’t give the little one any time to protest before he launches them upward. Their fear-filled yell doesn’t sit well with him, but he’s left with one hand free to grab his other blaster. He shoots the beast in the shoulder, making it shriek out in pain, and pistol whips it right along its temple. Its claws unhook from his person, leaving it to fall a few feet and land bodily onto a branch below. It’s still alive, but stunned, and hopefully convinced to leave them be. Rex watches it for a second, then snaps his head upwards, eyes searching the foliage.

“ Pom? “ He doesn’t see them, which sends a pang of worry through his brain. They fixed the tear in their gliding suit; surely they managed to slow their fall . . . right? “ Where are you, kid? That thing’s gone now. Pom? ”

The longer the silence persists, the more unsettled Rex grows. He stops his ascent and pulls himself up the cable enough to hook it to his belt, then looks down to the branches below. The creature is nowhere to be seen, but the same can be said for Pom.

“ Hey, Pom! Come on, kid! Tell me you’re alright! ” What if they fell back to the floor? What if the thing ultimately managed to snatch them and run off? Dank Farrik, what if–––

“ Rex! ” The tiny voice snaps his attention upward. Relief washes over him when he spots them perched atop a branch several feet above him. They jump, gliders spread, and drift down towards him. He meets them with both hands outstretched, giving them a platform to land on. Immediately he can feel the shivers coursing through their body. Another pang spikes in his mind. Carefully, he draws them nearer.

“ Pom, I––listen, kid, I’m sorry. I should’a given you some more warning. You alright? ” Other than their pallid features, they don’t look any worse for wear physically. They nod, still shaking.

“ It’s––n-no, I am okay. I am just . . . I have never seen a grekesa up close . . . and I never want to again. ” They pull their gliders in and sit in his hands, hugging their knees to their chest. Rex presses his lips together. It does make him feel a little better to know that his actions didn’t scare them so much as the beast. As a soldier, he’s faced things far worse than that “ grekesa, ” but he recognizes that he is both battle-hardened and far to big for most things to make a meal out of. Pom would be but a snack.

“ I’ve got you, kid. We ought’a keep moving before another one shows up. “ Were that to happen, he’d drop the bastard where it stands. Rex deposits Pom onto his shoulder where they quickly huddle up to his neck, and resumes their ascent.

Pom is much quieter now, but, after a few minutes, Rex feels their tension start to ease. A part of him wants to reach up and comfort them, but he’s not sure how he’d do that. What, would he rub their back or shoulder with his finger? Give them a little hair ruffle? How would he comfort someone so small?

“ Thank you, ” they say, drawing Rex from his thoughts.

“ Hm? What for? ”

Pom shrugs, though the gesture goes unseen. “ For saving me from the grekesa. For helping me get back home. ”

A tinge of warmth fills the trooper’s heart. He shakes his head. “ Don’t mention it. In fact, don’t thank me just yet; we still have a ways to go before we get to the canopy. ”

As they climb ever higher into the treetops, Rex takes note of the drastic changes in scenery. The difference between the jungle floor and the upper levels is like night and day––literally. While the floor was quite dark, at this height, there isn’t nearly as much foliage to block out the sunlight. Something as simple as a bit of sun has Rex feeling more optimistic that he’ll be able to see his fallen ship when they reach the top.

Once they reach their next branch, Rex pauses a moment and removes his helmet. He’s mindful of Pom as he does so, careful not to jostle them too much. He fishes into one of his pockets to retrieve a rations bar. All of this crashing and climbing and fighting with local fauna has his stomach growling. Before he takes a bite, though, he breaks off a piece and offers it to his companion, who gratefully accepts.

“ Shouldn’t be too much longer, ” Rex says after swallowing down a few bites. “ One more good placement of the cable and we’ll be up near the top. Any of this starting to look familiar to you? ”

Pom finishes off their piece of ration, then stands up on the trooper’s shoulder, one hand to his neck for balance. “ Hmm . . .. Not really. I have never left the canopy before. But . . .. ” They leap from their perch, gliders unfolding. They drift over to a cluster of leaves on a neighboring branch. Rex watches with one brow raised as they inspect the branch, looking for who-knows-what.

“ Aha! ” They declare. They hold up a leaf that, to Rex, looks like any other dead leaf. He blinks, confused. “ This is from my tribe! We must be approaching one of the lower villages! ”

“ That leaf . . .? ” He tilts his head, still lost. “ How do you know it’s not just . . . some leaf? ”

“ Because! ” Pom jumps and glides back to Rex, who holds out a hand for them to land on. They hold up the leaf to him. “ Each tribe grows special leaves that we graft onto trees to mark our territories. This one––see these? ” they point to the veins in the leaf, which swirl in intricate patterns. “ Over the generations, my tribe has designed this pattern and color. It is unique to us. ”

“ Uh hunh . . .. ” Rex squints. Upon closer inspection, it does stand out. However, other than the color––a bright red to contrast the greens––he wouldn’t think anything of it. Then again, this isn’t his culture; he wouldn’t think to think anything of it. “ That’s good news then. Means we’re gettin’ somewhere. ”

Pom beams up at the trooper. They scurry along his arm, back to his shoulder, and settle down for the continued journey. Rex finishes off the last of his ration bar, replaces his helmet, and takes aim at another branch. This one, he hopes, will be the last stretch. He clips himself in and activates the wench, thus resuming their ascent.

It doesn’t take long for Pom to point out more markers of their tribe. There are carvings and paintings in the bark, more clusters of leaves, and even a few abandoned homes––all of which would have gone under Rex’s radar were he alone. The more he sees, the more he realizes how resourceful Pom’s people must be to live up here.

The excitement and wonder come to a grinding halt, however, when the ascension cable lurches. Rex only has a moment to realize what’s happening before it comes loose. After a brief fall and an undignified yell, he manages to catch himself on a branch, hands clinging to the bark and legs dangling.

“ Dammit! Pom, are you––– ” He looks to his shoulder to find it unoccupied. He isn’t given any time to process this, though. A sharp smack to the side of his helmet draws the trooper’s attention to his left, where he finds four little humanoids, each armed with a slingshot. “ What the hell . . .? ”

“ Stop! Leave him alone! ” Calls a familiar voice from up above. Pom drifts down, landing atop Rex’s helmet. “ He is my friend! ”

The four beings pause, each of them looking shocked and confused. “ Pomfree? Is that you? ” One asks. All at once, they rush forward towards Rex and Pom. He has to stop himself from flinching as they scale his arms and shoulders. The one that spoke clambers up to meet Pom on his helmet where the two embrace. Rex feels . . . awkward.

“ We saw you fall into the dark beyond! ” The one––Rex assumes them to be the leader of the group––says.

“ I did! I fell all the way to the floor, ” they say. “ I tried to stop myself, but I tore my wing and hit my head and then I woke up down there. This one––– ” they pat Rex’s helmet, “ helped me back up. He saved me from a grekesa too! ”

Though he can’t see any of the little ones from where they are on his person, he can feel all of their eyes on him. Rex clears his throat. “ Er, hi. I hate to break up the reunion, but do you mind letting me pull myself up? I don’t really want to stay hanging here. ”

Pom is the first to disembark. The others are quick to follow. Once they’re all off, Rex hauls himself up to straddle the branch. He breathes a sigh of relief, and rolls his shoulders to work out some of the stiffness from holding himself in place.

All five of the little beings stare at him. Pom is the only one that does not look wary. Rex can’t blame them, he supposes. He clears his throat again. “ Right. I am Captain Rex of the Army of the Grand Republic. It’s true, I met Pom down on the jungle floor. “

“ He is good, ” Pom insists, though their companions do not seem fully convinced. They huff and approach Rex, frowning. They climb up onto his thigh and gesture to him. “ Show your face. Let them see you. ”

With some hesitancy, the trooper complies. He pulls his helmet off and tucks it under his arm. This somehow feels even more awkward.

“ Look, I don’t want to cause you any more trouble than we already have. I’m just trying to find my squadron; Pom told me I’d have a better shot at seeing where they landed up here. Only fair I bring them up with me. ”

The four regard him with scrutiny, then huddle up to whisper amongst themselves. Every few seconds, one of them glances back at him before returning to the conversation. Rex grimaces.

“ Well, Pom, I think this is where we’re gonna have to part ways. ” Gently, he scoops the little being off of his leg and sets them down on the branch. Before he can pull his hand away, though, they catch his thumb and wrap their arms around it. This, he realizes, is the closest thing to a hug they can share. He glances to the group, all of whom are staring at him again, then gently lets his fingers curl around their back.

“ Hey now, no need for any waterworks, kid, ” he says, mustering a half-smile. “ Glad I could get you back to your people. You be good now, alright? ”

Pom gives his thumb a squeeze before letting go. They take the leaf they’d kept from when they’d first found signs of their tribe and place it in Rex’s palm. “ Thank you, Rex. I am sad I cannot do more to help you than wish you luck in finding your own people. ”

“ Don’t worry about it. ” His half-smile grows into something softer, more genuine. Fingers close around the leaf, then he pushes himself to stand. The four new little ones retreat a few feet, and Pom joins them after a moment. Rex offers a small wave, then puts on his helmet and tucks the leaf into one of his pockets. He takes his blaster and launches his ascension cable to a higher branch.

Pom is home. That’s good. Now he needs to figure out how the hell he’s going to keep the war away from them and their people.

#g/t #g/t fiction #g/t writing #star wars #g/t star wars #rex #pomfree #hyena writes #hyena ocs #hoo boy this is a longer one

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salenakingston · 4 years ago

Text

The Future: Theories and Predictions

Boy what a wild ride this has been hasn’t it? The Future has been out for a few days now and I’ve seen a lot of interesting discussion going on about it. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to toss in my two cents about some things that I have noticed, a few theories/food for thought, and some predictions I have for the next video. Yeah we’ve got a while before then, but that gives us all plenty of time to expand on theories and ideas. Anyways, onto the rambling. I apologize if I am repeating some stuff that other people have already said <3.

1. Shiromori and Mystery

This seems to arguably be the biggest mystery (haha) that’s still present in these videos. A lot of what we can gleam from them is some interactions and still image flashbacks. It’s clear there’s a connection between her and mystery’s blood, and I’m pretty sure we can assume mystery is the one that brought her to life with his blood. And given the third image that is shown to us in Hellbent, I think it’s safe to assume they had some kind of symbiotic relationship, at least in the past.

But now with the release of future, there seems to be much more going on between them. I know these details have been pointed out by many other people, so I won’t drag on too long about this, but rather go over some things that stood out to me. I had seen one user point out the fact that Mystery hesitated to join the fight between Vivi and Shiromori at the start, only stepping in once Vivi’s face got cut again, and again when the vines started coming towards them.

It’s like Mystery doesn’t want to fight her, and this seems further supported after Shiromori loses her arms and they get frozen over. He steps in and protects her, something that surprises her and Vivi. He cares about her, even if he is afraid of her to some degree. There is more evidence to this when Shiromori’s body is destroyed (I’ll come back to this bit shortly). The look he gives is shock/horror at what happened. Sorry I am not good with description words.

One other interesting thing to note is that when Shiromori attacks Mystery when he snaps is that she can be shown crying. So she to some level cares about Mystery as well, to the point where yes she wanted his blood, but not want him dead. Just an interesting detail.

So with all that being said do I have any predictions about this going into the next video? Honestly not really, at least not at the moment. Considering how the ending of the Future is set up, I’m not sure how much more information we will get on these two. I know the main creators have mentioned the possibility of doing more after this current arc. Maybe this would be something to explore if more is not shared. One thing I will say about Shiromori is I don’t believe she is dead. Yes, we see her body disintegrate, but her heart remained in tact. After all Vivi, only hit it and didn’t break it as far as we could see.

2. Mystery and his tails

Now, I will say upfront that I know next to nothing about kitsunes and their lore, so for a lot of this I’ll just be going off what we see in the videos. I do know that the tails in lore connect with a kitsune’s age, but I am not sure if that plays a role here, as many have already pointed out that in the Shiromori flashbacks he has nine, in the Ghost flashback he has six, and present he has seven, which become nine at the end of the Future. Since that all has been talked about, I have something more to chew on in terms of this and Mystery’s heart itself.

It seems that to Mystery, his tails are connected to other beings, beings that he cares about, as evident to him growing his eighth tail when Vivi gets injured and his ninth when Shiromori “dies.” Each person is represented by a stream of color coming out of his heart.

I do find it interesting that of all the colors, those are the two with patches on them, making me wonder if this also ties into his connection with Mushi and Mystery’s past, but I don’t have enough to go off with that. What I am more interested in are the other colored streams. A lot of people have been connecting colors to others we know, like magenta/purple being Lewis and yellow/oragne being Arthur, something I also support. Green might be linked to ??? but that makes me wonder something I’ll get into in another bullet point.

Bringing this all back to my point, this is just something to think about more than a theory. If we assume that this is the case, then did Mystery grow to six tails after everything that happened in the cave, or did he start out with six? Along with this, if we assume who some of these colors belong to, who got hurt or killed between the time in the cave and present day to make Mystery have seven tails? I could just be looking too deep into this, but thought it was interesting to look at when put into the context of the previous videos.

3. Mystery and ???/Multiple ???

I know that header might seem a bit confusing but stick with me on this one. There’s a clear connection between Mystery and ??? that is more of less confirmed by the end of the video when ??? reaches out and grabs Mystery’s heart. It’s clear that ??? has got a hold on Mystery... but my question is how? The last time we saw it was in Freaking Out, and it wasn’t for very long. It was sure quick to run away when Shiromori popped out of the ground, looking very worried. Almost as worried as someone else we know.

More importantly though is how did ??? not only find the Mystery Skulls gang, but catch up to them running around as just an arm? He has been hanging out at the cave until Shiromori even showed up. We at least know Shiromori was able to track them due to the flowers she spawned, and was fast enough underground to keep up with two moving cars going at a very high speed. I find it a bit hard to believe that ??? was following them the whole time, or was even able to keep up.

I will admit that there is still not a lot we know about ??? and it is very possible that there is more that will be shown in the next video, but this does give me a couple theories that are worth looking into.

Either ??? might have been a part of Mystery the whole time, or the events of the cave left a bit of ??? not just in Mystery, but Arthur’s arm as well, which would mean there’s two... pieces for lack of a better word, running around. I’m not swayed towards one theory over the other, as both seem to have a good backing to them. There is a clear connection between the two of them though as evidence from a couple frames that pass rather quick after Mystery grows his eighth tail.

He’s already changing at this point, and it only fully goes through at the end once Mystery’s passed out. I assume that is because it is a point when ??? could easily take over. But that also harkens back to my second theory. How? If all of ??? is still trapped in Arthur’s arm, how would Mystery be changing like this? There’s no way the arm was somehow able to get inside him off screen right? It makes me wonder if the arm (the physical arm, not just ???) will turn up in the next video and expand more on how it was able to do this.

4. Arthur’s arm/??? and Lewis

And that finally leads me to my final point, being Arthur’s own arm, specifically the left one in both senses. Yes, it’s metal now, but that doesn’t mean he’s got full control over it. At the end of the Future, when Mystery starts to transform, Arthur’s arm really starts to freak out. I only really noticed when @ectoimp and @arthurtristankingsmen pointed it out on my feed, but the arm seems to be moving on its own and pulling him towards Lewis.

Now I’ve seen a couple theories floating around about this. One thing I would like to point out is the color of the sparks. I’ve seen people tribute this to Arthur himself, but I think it’s just simply a show of the metal arm itself. It’s metal and it’s a show of it sparking and malfunctioning. Yes, we saw this when Lewis’ sparks when into Arthur’s arm and shorted it out, but he’s a ghost and that was his power. These may just be normal mechanical sparks coming out.

Another theory was that it was pulling Arthur towards his friends. While yes, I could see that, there’s one key detail, and that’s Arthur pulling his arm away from Lewis once he sees what it’s doing. Now why would he be physically holding his arm back if it only wanted him to be back with his friends?

I’m more inclined to believe that Arthur’s arm might still be possessed in some way, or ??? still has some kind of influence over it, even if it is metal. With that in mind, something to think about, why is it still going for Lewis? We know it was used to push Lewis off the cliff and kill him, but Lewis is dead now. Granted he is a ghost, but what can Arthur’s arm do to him? It can physically touch him as we saw in Hellbent, but what else? Is there some connection between Lewis and ??? that we don’t know about? Or is it perhaps ??? trying to get rid of another threat since Lewis is still around? Maybe Vivi as well? Just some things to think about.

Also, I wonder if this has a deeper meaning between Mystery, ???, and Arthur given the “vision” we see in Freaking Out where Arthur’s arm can also be seen sparking at the sight of Mystery in kitsune form. Perhaps more than just clever foreshadowing?

5. Predictions

This is mere speculations now, but what can I see coming out of this and going to the next video? Boy we’re hitting the climax and I’m super excited. Ok, so most of the new videos have been starting with some kind of intro before the actual song starts. I imagine the next one will as well. About what I am not sure.

Now this is purely based on a post made by @heilos, but the word designs was used. Designs, plural. We’ve already seen Murder Mystery, so who else could it be? I’ve got three guesses on who could be getting some kind of design. Arthur: if something is really going on with his arm and ??? starts to take over again, ??? itself: maybe getting a look of his own rather than just being a walking arm, and Lewis: hell, if Mystery can change forms and is a supernatural being, then why can’t Lewis do the same? Especially if Arthur and Vivi play some kind of role in that.

I also think Arthur might play some kind of larger role than just being the one running away. I image his will still do that, but think about it. He’s had experience with ???, he’s got a soft spot for Mystery, even after what was done to his arm, and maybe that could lead to him being a key to helping bring Mystery back to himself.

Holy shit that got long. Sorry for my rambling, but I love sharing about something I care this much about. We may have to wait another two years, but the wait is always worth it! Please let me know your thoughts if you have any or expand on some of these ideas! <3

#mystery skulls animated #msa spoilers #msa theory #msa prediction #salena speaks #thank you for listening to me ramble #long post

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oxiosa · 4 years ago

Note

This is the ask for you to endlessly rant about the capri AU in case you decide to. I’m dying for that au

LMAO THAT SETTLES THEN TUMBRL RANT IT IS

Ok so the universe is pretty much just a mush of the Cisplatine War (with some historical changes) + some Capri elements I kindly borrowed from Mrs. Pacat. So it is a bit of a mess between historical fiction and fantasy. I’ll start setting some of the fic foundations universe and history wise before I jump into current events, get comfy ‘cause this is gonna get LONG

Martín is the only Heir to the Argentinean Crown. He takes his role as prince quite seriously; he wants to make his father and his country proud. His people love him unconditionally, but it is more a star-struck sense of deep admiration. They see him high up on this unreachable golden pedestal like some sort of knight in a shiny armour with a choir of angels behind him.

Luciano is the Heir to the Brazilian Crown, but unlike Martín he is not an only child. He is the oldest male son, but he has siblings – I only have Angola as his far-more-competent older sister in mind at the moment, but I’m particularly interested in giving him younger siblings (lusofam stans hit askbox pls). Luciano is far more relaxed about his prince role, which makes him far more approachable than Martín. As expected, this makes him very popular among his people, who have a very dear fondness over their young kind handsome prince.

Sebastián is the son of the Duke of Uruguay, so no, he’s not Martín’s brother by blood but actually his cousin. They were raised together and have a very close bond, which is why they think of each other in terms of brothers. Sebas had a bit of rocky life; he spent most of his childhood with Martín, until Brazil occupied Uruguay and he and his family were taken as prisoners by the Empire. Since they were royalty, it was a privileged captivity, it’s not like they threw them into dungeons, they just weren’t allowed to leave the palace or contact Argentina. During those years, Sebastián met Luciano and they became close friends. Eventually Argentina reclaimed Uruguay and Sebastián and his family returned to Buenos Aires.

Daniel is there too, somewhere somehow. I’m not sure what his role would be, but he is Martín and Sebas’ cousin too. He is younger than Tincho and older than Sebas, but since his mother was the late King’s youngest sister, Sebas goes first in line of succession.

Francis is part of French aristocracy, so he’s just there hanging around, assisting parties and charming people, just living the life. He likes to mingle with Royalty of all sort, so he frequents both Argentina’s and Brazil’s courts and has known both Luciano and Martín since they were children. He likes to consider himself some sort of cool uncle to the Crown Princes.

Argentina is a monarchy I very dramatically called the United Provinces of the Kingdom of Argentina because a fancy mouthful of a name really suits us. However, they still have many elements of the structure of a democracy, so it’s less like the old days monarchies and more like a modern era one. Argentina is also a fairly new country, so their monarchy is only a couple of generations long, which makes them a little green to other royalty’s eyes. When Luciano calls them “a shitshow”, he is not entirely wrong, as Argentina is a very young nation with a court filled with people who can’t seem to agree on anything and like to scream at each other. Any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental :)

Brazil is a monarchy too, but it is waaaaaaay older than Argentina. It remounts many generations back, Luciano’s family has been in the throne for centuries. This allows Brazil’s royal family to have a sense of superiority over Argentina’s (as in “we already were kings while you all were a bunch of mongrels fighting each other trying to unify a country”), but it also makes them far more traditional and rigid. It is the old school take on monarchy in contrast with “progressive innovative” Argentina’s.

Slavery is legal in Brazil, and that includes sex slaves. In contrast, Argentina finds the concept of slaves abhorrent and instead prefers the “most civilized” approach of pets (courtesans of either sex who have contracts with wealthy masters/mistresses).

Brazil considers Argentina a pit of treacherous back-stabbing snakes, and Argentina considers Brazil an Empire of backward savages (a la Akielos vs Vere).

The Cisplatine War (Southern/Eastern Bank War in the fic) is also a little different. Argentina and Brazil have been disputing the dukedom of Uruguay for decades. As I already explained with Sebas, the war happened when Argentina marched in and reclaimed Uruguay from Brazil’s rule, which of course led to an armed conflict between the two kingdoms.

During this war, Martín and Luciano had barely turned 18, and Sebastián was 14. Both Martín and Luciano were allowed to participate in the war, both in meetings and in battle, but it was a tightly supervised participation. Both the King and the Emperor wanted to have their Heirs taste war without actually risking them, so they were sent out sporadically and heavily guarded, usually to smaller easier battles or just kept on the tamest combat zones.

The Sebastián incident was something that shook both countries to the core at a national scale, and that is because Argentina and Brazil have very different version of what occurred.

To the Argentinean public, Luciano was a dishonourable sadist who saw a defenceless child caught in the middle of a battle and stroked them down – and not just any child, but one of their princes nevertheless. Martín had to watch his brother fight death and struggle to recover. Luciano irrevocably ruined Sebas’ life, crippled an otherwise healthy boy.

To the Brazilian public, Sebastián’s presence in the battlefield was no mistake but a despicable Argentinean rouse. Why else was he wearing the Crown Prince’s armour? The Argentineans disguised a child like their Prince and sent him into battle in his sake hoping no one would notice, that’s the only conclusion. Sebas was Luciano’s dear friend, so you can imaginae Lu’s pure horror the moment he realised he stabbed his friend. In Luciano’s eyes, Martín was too much of a coward to fight his own battles and sent a child double instead.

At the end of the day, the truth everyone is too angry to hear from Sebas’ very lips is he just wanted to talk to Luciano, see if Lu could convince the Emperor to stop this senseless war. Sebas had tried convincing Martín to talk to his father for months, but Tincho wouldn’t listen, so Sebas slipped into Martin’s armour and rode out. He was caught in the middle of a Brazilian attack by accident, and found the end of Luciano’s sword.

Sebastián almost didn’t survive Luciano’s attack. The injury was really bad, rehabilitation was hard, and it took a heavy toll on his health; one of his legs is mostly useless (he has a slight limp he is very good at hiding and most people don’t know about), and never seemed to recover his physical strength and stamina, so his muscles are rather weak. He holds no grudges over Luciano, and wishes Martín didn’t either.

Hopefully that is enough world building and now I can finally start talking about the fic’s current events :’D

At the moment, Uruguay is part of Argentina, but Brazil has the perfect opportunity to attack and take it back now that the King and Prince of Argentina are gone.

Martín’s father died shortly after Tincho was taken captive. Sebas’ father would be the next in line, but since he died somewhere along the years between the War and current events, this would make Sebastián the new King if it wasn’t because he’s underage - still one year from 21.

The Emperor of Brazil is alive, but very sick. And by sick I mean he is being poisoned. Probably. I’m not sure yet. The Empress consort is alive though, and knows something is up; the Argentinean King’s sudden death, his Heir’s “disappearance” and her husband mysterious illness are extremely suspicious.

UK is the only behind the Argentinean coup. So far I don’t really have much motivation other than “Argentina and UK had a very bad relationship and it would be in the UK’s best interest if Argentina had a new King who hasn’t a prideful hot-headed member of the House of Hernández”. Still a wip as you see.

Remember I said Francis mingles with royalty of all sorts? Well, he has more info on everyone than he knows what to do with, so much dirt on everyone. He heard of the coup while he was back at the Brisith court, and tried to help Martín how he could. The original plan was to murder the Crown Prince as well, but Francis managed to slip in and orchestrate everything behind everyone’s back so Martín would end up as some nameless slave in Rio de Janeiro. Francis has no side really, he just wants the best for his two favourite “nephews”.

Luciano recognised Martín the moment he saw him. Not only did he recognised his face, but also his physical similarity with Sebastián confirmed his identity. The Empress noticed too, and forbid Lu from killing Tincho much to his chagrin. They will follow Francis plan and hide their enemy from the people trying to kill him until they figure what is going on and whom they can trust.

That doesn’t mean Luciano will play fair with his new “toy”. His mother said “no killing”, but she never said “make sure he is comfortable and happy and well cared for”.

Martín doesn’t get Damen’s flogging scars, but he does get something arguably worse (in the long run at least). The first order Luciano gives out concerning his new slave is that as Royal property, he needs to be branded. As painful as it is, it is quick and requires little recovering, but Martín now carries the Imperial Coat of arms seared into his skin and that humiliation burns deeper than flesh.

As the new Crown Prince, Sebastián eventually pays Luciano a visit with the pretext of peace talks to avoid a new war, but mostly because he has his own suspicions. He knows Martín and doesn’t buy that rumour that he run away, something must have happened to him. Luciano listens and doesn’t mention he currently has Martín collared and cuffed as his slave in his very palace. After all, his mother said not to tell anyone and maybe he likes Sebastián better in the throne.

Martín does try to reach Sebastián when he hears Argentina’s new heir is in Rio, but he doesn’t get as much as watch from afar, unable to reach him and let him know he is alive and right here.

I really don’t have much of the plot, but of course they’ll have to work together and learn to trust each other and eventually fall in love, and there would be a lot of tension and denial and eventual tenderness, we all know the drill uvu

#I think it’s amazing how much info I spilled and how little plot I actually have lmao #anyways it is a wip with much work ahead #hopefully I'll come back to it I had so much fun plotting this shit #of course this includes all capri beautiful tropes like the tent scene or that scene where laurent prentended to be damen's pet #just endless possibilites #latin hetalia #brarg #capri au #disaster-fruit

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