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maglorsedgy80s-teen · 2 years ago

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Bold Wanderer/Clever Elm: Chapter 2

A Silmarillion/LOTR Fic

Chapter 1

Words: 3.2k

Tags: Slight Angst?

Summary: The memories are becoming more clear to Himmeth, but who or where she comes from is still unknown. Boromir's feelings become clearer, and a memory of someone from her past reminds her of what she once was...

A/N: Apologies for taking so long to update, college is a real bitch! I plan to update more regularly, but who knows how that will go. (Also remember that italics are flashbacks. Hope you enjoy, feel free to send me any feedback you might have :)

Himmeth woke with a jolt. Another memory. The elusiveness of the smoke and feathers were a mystery no longer. She was an archer, and a good one at that. And she traveled through cold, the likes of which no longer existed in the known world. Where could that have been? Or better yet, when? She had never seen records of an icy desert like that before. Even the kingdom of Angmar could not boast such a climate, despite its well deserved ill repute. And who were those elves? Who was the one she longed for? And why? Why long for him and not be with him? Did he not return her affections? Did she prefer this blond Aiknaro instead? And what was the reason for the fire? The only frustrating conclusion to be made was that these questions could only be answered with time. There was no way to force the reality out of her mind. She so wished to meet this Mithrandir, to see if he had any answers to her questions, or if he could help her at all. Faramir spoke very highly of him, but Denethor did not, and so doubt was the only impression that was left of the wizard. No one knew exactly how old he was, or exactly what he was. Could she have been older than him? There was no living record of either one of them, perhaps they shared their age in common. Perhaps the gap in their wisdom was not so wide after all. She forced all these musings into the back of her mind however, there was little use in ruminating over unknowns. There was work to be done with the answers she did have.

Himmeth’s servant Nilûphêl entered Himmeth’s humble chamber to wake her for the morning. She was short of stature and had lovely dark eyes that had a keenness for detail. Her black hair was always covered in a humble gray blue scarf, yet her demeanor was anything but meek. She often commented on how much she loved Himmeth’s long, wavy copper-brown hair. It had grown to an almost ridiculous length, but she had a difficult time parting with it. The tone of it matched the freckles that were dotted all over her skin, and her thick brow covered narrow almond eyes. She had imagined herself not to be a great beauty among the Eldar, but neither one of the hideous. Just, plain. Just a mouse.

“How did you sleep last night my lady?” Nilûphêl asked.

“Well, thank you.” That of course was not true, but Nilûphêl was only being polite, and so a small lie on Himmeth’s part would suffice.

“What do you say to the purple gown today my lady? Something to impress his lordship with?” It was a heather kirtle, with full bishop sleeves. It was hardly something impressive, but maybe to a serving girl anything might’ve seemed impressive.

Himmeth chuckled, “Which lordship am I meant to be impressing?”

“Well Lord Boromir of course, he’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at you, you know. It’s the talk of all the servants.” All of them? That was certain to cause trouble.

“Well, I would prefer if it stayed as talk, no need to chase him off too soon.” Himmeth said with a laugh and a wink. Nilûphêl meant no harm in her innocent complement; anger was hardly the best course. But Himmeth still felt the indignity of being made a subject of everyone’s gossip. The audacity of others to think she had any design in taking Boromir as her husband. How could such a suggestion even be made? There was a war, and one neither one of them would be likely to survive if Denethor’s current course of inaction continued. There was of course the matter of her amnesia, and of her immortality, and her class, her lack of connections to the outside world, her lack of consequence, and… gentle gray eyes. And hands that were skilled and sweet to the touch. They held you like honey, soft and warm and golden. Rings of gold like the seven points of his family’s star. They were the most perfect hands, but those hands were not here any longer. Whoever’s they were, they were not here. They might have been looking for her, but they were not here. At least Boromir had that in his favor. So though Himmeth knew his affections were dangerously close to manifesting into something serious, she let them comfort her anyways. And she was in need of comfort.

She had hoped to be able to avoid him this morning at least. She took her breakfast in her room and feigned some headache so as to collect herself. Hopefully he would chalk it up to her ill mood from last evening, instead of being anything contrary to that information. The pieces were starting to form, and forming new attachments would only cloud her judgment, not aid in discovery of the past.

Himmeth began walking to the Houses of Healing to see if anyone needed her assistance. There had been an attack in Osgiliath a few days past, and so her skills were needed to aid in the small injuries that plagued the soldiers involved. She hurried, making sure her medicine bag and apron were secured about her waist. It seemed a shame, to ruin the pretty dress with practical things, but then, she needed to make herself useful, not just beautiful.

As Himmeth turned the corner toward her destination, she saw Boromir talking with some guard. He shooed him away, and gently stopped Himmeth with a concerned observation, “You are very quiet this morning.”

“Perhaps there is not much to say my lord.” Himmeth was in no mood to be accosted with sentiment, there was work to be done.

Boromir was persistent, “Isn’t there? Won’t you tell me what you saw last night?”

“I already informed you my lord, it’s much too foggy to retell in any meaningful way. Unless fog is of interest to your lordship?”

“Why this coldness? Have I offended you?” He only wanted to know why she was pulling away, but opening up to him was just not wise.

Himmeth found her words again, though her truth still eluded her, “I’m afraid.”

“Of what, of me?” Boromir seemed uneasy in that moment, he had probably only meant to get her open up, not to make her uncomfortable. Himmeth answered him, “Of myself.” That was perhaps too honest, but words can never be taken back. Not after they are spoken.

Boromir was honorable as ever, “Then I am here to defend you! Against whatever threats; either from outside or within.”

Her soft laugh, “You cannot save me from myself. No matter how much you may wish to.”

“I want to protect you, not fix you! I…I care for you.” Oh Eru, perhaps her fawning had worked too well.

It had to stop, “You are not capable of solving this for me. This task is beyond you. I bid you farewell.” And with that Himmeth scampered away. His words would not stop clanging around in her head like a morning bell, she had not meant to make him care for her, she had only meant to make sure that she was able to stay long enough to learn where she belonged. Himmeth was not even sure who she was, let alone what she wanted. It felt too oppressive, too constricting to open herself up to his “care”, whatever that meant. And besides, he was mortal, and she was not; there was no reckoning the chasm that stood between them in that way.

She rushed as quickly as she could back towards the Houses, in hopes of escaping from her own feelings. It was better to stay busy, to keep oneself occupied instead of drowning in the well. In her speed she was caught by Lord Denethor. Seeing the sour look on her face, he approached her with as much tact as he was capable of in that moment.

“Something troubles you my lady?” His dark voice was intending to prod, not to sooth.

“No my lord, do not trouble yourself on my account.” Himmeth was not interested in this conversation.

“It is my son, no? Who elicits such a… response?” Oh Eru! Had she been that obvious? What she would give to do it all over again.

Himmeth answered him, “No my lord.”

“You know I would have thought Faramir foolish enough to imagine himself to be in love with you, but Boromir? This has truly been a surprise. I suppose he inherited that from his mother.”

“No words of love have been spoken to me I assure you.” Words of “care”, maybe, but they didn’t mean anything.

Denethor was displeased, “And yet, if they should happen to, I hope you would be wise enough for the both of us and cut them down where they stand, no?”

“I have never professed to be wise in my actions, my lord.” She was defending herself at this moment, but as to why eluded her. She did not love him, not enough time had even passed for love between them, but she so disliked his tone. She was not behaving falsely, Boromir was a good and kind man, he just was not right for her.

Denethor perceived the change in her mood, “And yet you do not seem pleased at the possibility of love, do you my dear?”

“I understand myself to be in a position above love to an Edain, my lord.” She was being proud, foolishly proud.

“And yet you are not in a position above my son, dear. Do not be so bold as to forget it.” He began to walk away, imagining victory in nothing more than the status of his birth.

She wasn't proud of the way she was falling for his jabs, but she did so want to prove him wrong, “And yet, the truth of my position is yet to be revealed. Perhaps he and I are more equal than you or I could ever know. Perhaps, you and I are equals in this way.”

“Forgive me, you speak plainly, as ever. But do, not, forget what we have spoken of this day. I would have my son marry a woman who cares for him. One who is his equal in merit and in station.”

Himmeth knew that no such woman existed, “I look forward to meeting such a woman.”

An insincere smile crossed his lips, “As do I dear. The pleasure will be welcome in the near future, I’m sure.”

Himmeth had finished her rounds at the Houses with little trouble. One soldier needed stitches on his brow from some civil dispute in the square, another needed a cyst to be drained of inflammation. It wasn’t always pleasant work, but it was work nonetheless. She thought maybe if she proved herself to be useful to these people, the transition to whatever home she may have had would be easier. Himmeth decided then to visit the library to search for any more clues about herself, and decided the royal library the best place to continue.

The descent down the stairs to the library calmed the nerves and senses of Himmeth, there was a scholarly quietus to the cramped room. It was hardly ever visited- it had a newness to it in that sense, despite its true antiquity. The walls of stone were much whiter than the marble of the outer walls of the city, but they did not shine with that clarity of which they deserved, they never saw the beauty of the sun. Yes, that's what it was. There were no windows here, and so the smells of ink and aged paper never wafted out of the cramped rooms. It felt more like a dungeon than a place of study, the prisoners memories instead of petty thieves.

Most papers here were records of taxes, collections from farms, trade with the Dwarves of Erebor in the north, or the ships which came to the west coast. Messages to Rohan were frequent, especially in older records. Most papers were not any older than the founding of the Kingdom, which was to be expected, but was frustrating considering the age of the world in general. Anything older than the third age was records of Numenor, and its fall. It was hard for her to imagine all the pain of that drowning. It seemed an ignoble way to go, especially in their quest for immortal life. Most records were of trade, or of troops arriving to the shores, or regnal accounts of the infamous king Isildur. Searching seemed futile, pointless even, but somewhere in the depths of a shelf, there it was:

A CANONICAL ANNAL OF THIS SECOND AGE OF MIDDLE EARTH

This was more likely to be promising, it looked to be extremely old too. A copy of something much older nonetheless, but this was a step in the right direction. It was no dry history either, it was almost poetic, like whoever wrote it had care and joy for the world in which they all lived. His history of the founding of Numenor was stirring in particular.

It was then that Elerösse Half-Elven, was given the choice to live either as Edain or as Eldar, because he was descended from first Beren and Luthien, and then from Tuor and Idril. Elrond chose the life of the most noble Eldar, but Elros chose that life of a mortal. It was then that the Valar Eonwë came to him and his people and taught them wisdom and honor and power. For their loyalty to Eru-Iluvatar, they were gifted a land of their own, The Isle of Numenor. It was there that Elros became the king of his people, and he was loved for all the long days of his life. He died peacefully, in S.A. 442, and his son Tar-Vardamir claimed his place as king of Numenor.

How hard it must have been, to choose between two worlds, which Eru deemed to be so incompatible with the other. Elros’ pain of choosing to leave his brother, to abandon his family in pursuit of the greater good, and yet to see the fruits of his kingdom eventually turn against the very people he loved, but did not ever belong to. The brother, now left behind, to live forever with the knowledge his love was not enough to keep his brother immortal. To forsake security, in favor of authenticity, it was a trait to be admired, certainly. And yet still, there was something with which she could empathize in this. Who did she leave behind when she came to this kingdom of mortals, did they want her there? Did they love her? Did Elros love his family? His son? His father? His wife? The thought had been on her mind of marriage to Boromir, not of her own will of course, but she could not help but wonder, was she ever married? What did Eldar marriages even look like anyways? Did she have children anywhere? What would they say to her now if they could?

“How are you settling?” His eyes were so like his father’s, it made it seem as though Curufin was seeing through his son to her. Telling her he was sorry, for everything, for everything his father was guilty of.

“You really mustn't trouble yourself on my account.” She said to her nephew, Telpinquar.

“Of course I must! Besides, I take pleasure in the fussing.” His skillful hand was on her cheek, but it was gone almost as quick as it was there. She shifted away, perhaps almost violently, he frowned a little at her lack of intimacy. This was not the right order of things, for the young to be fussing over the old. It was she who smoothed the cow lick of his hair as a young babe, this was not right.

She found her voice again, “I’m really alright, most everyone is too afraid of me to say much anyways.”

“It’s normal, you know.” He was perceptive as always.

“What?” She asked.

“To miss him.” Telpeinquar said with a sad smile. She chuckled, and let that simmer for a moment. Telpe was right of course, it would be normal. But she was far too angry to feel the shadow of his absence which haunted her. Her life was more stable without him.

“I already told you not to fuss, nephew. Now come, tell me everything! How goes your project with Lord Annatar?”

He smiled defeated, his attempts to reach out would only be shot down. “I’ve come to ask you something. Something of great importance and secrecy.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

Telpe smiled, and then was firm, “I’m serious, you cannot tell a soul that I’ve spoken to you.”

“Are you in some sort of trouble, Telpe?” Her protectiveness was speaking for her now.

Telpe chuckled, “No, no, goodness no. I…I’ve come to ask you a favor. More of an offer really, than a favor, but… it’s to do with Annatar’s project you see, I was wondering, wondering if you might be interested?”

“Interested in what, exactly?”

“To bear a ring of power.”

“I don’t understand, what… what exactly have you done, Telpe?”

“Nenya. She is, oh, she is a thing of beauty. The element of water, cool and steady just, just like you, Aunt.”

“You trust me to wield such power?”

“There is no one else I trust more. Besides, my father trusted you.” Hardly, Curufinwe didn’t trust anyone besides Turcafinwe, Curufinwe was only ever good to her for Kano’s sake.

“Perhaps you would be wise not to trust your father.”

“What a thing to say. Have I offended you in some way?”

“I’m afraid”

“Afraid of what?” His voice was soft now, as if his anything but a whisper would startle her from her peace. She was right in that at least, most everyone was too afraid of her.

“Afraid of what I might do with… with that kind of… my mind would desire to act from a place of good but my heart,” She was like water, Telpe was right, but not because she was calm, placid and capable of healing, but because her anger was bottomless-a chasm of unresolved grief. Because Kano was swimming at the shores of her mind, haunting her like some sort of ghostly foam.

Telpe broke the silence, and placed a hand on her shoulder, “You are not him, you know.”

“And who’s that?”

“He, he could not give up… would not give up his quest for the jewels, but it does not mean you share his lust for power.”

“Oh but I do, the things I did. You do not know me so well as you think. I have no wish to repeat the same mistakes of the past.”

“The rings are not, they are not the same, they do not corrupt in the same ways…”

“You are foolish to believe yourself immune to the influences of evil. I wish you luck but I will take no part in this. I hope one day you may come to understand why.”

#boromir x oc #lotr #lord of the rings #denethor #the silmarillion #celebrimbor #silm fic #lotr fic #silm oc #boromir #maglor #feanorians #maglor x oc

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soulmate-game · 4 years ago

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New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

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For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being�� good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat fic #platonic brucinette #older sister Marinette

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tumbling-darkling · 4 years ago

Text

Midnight Hang-Outs

This is a small crossover between Danny Phantom and DC! (Specifically Danny and Harley Quinn!) Following the prompts from Day 11 and 12 - Midnight and Scars (more of mentioned than revolving around it) Harley might be slightly ooc because I don’t read a lot of DC comics but maybe consider it more of like AU Harley Quinn. Mother hen. She feeds the vigilantes of Gotham on slow nights.

Harley glanced over to the boy sitting next to her on the rooftop of the Gotham Bank, she had been planning to break into it to draw out some fun with any nearby vigilantes but instead she had spotted the scrawniest looking glowing teen she’d ever seen. Well he was the only glowing teen she’d ever seen, but the poor kid was struggling against some freak in a white suit.

He had already devoured about 10 of the breakfast sandwiches she bought from a nearby 24 hour fast food joint, she couldn’t remember the name but her pal, Jeremy, always worked late shifts and gave her most of the grease filled wraps for free. Which she got a total of 20 and was beginning to worry that it wasn’t enough for this endless void. She thought she could calculate this kind of thing better based on Batsy’s kids, then again none of them had powers. That must be the factor throwing her off.

She glanced over him again, taking in his features for probably the hundredth time since she spotted him. White hair that gently wisped around his face like he was constantly underwater, pale blue-green skin with neon green freckles that sparkled like stars in the night, toxic green eyes that matched the freckles, flecks of blue hidden within the irises that shone in the right light. He hand pointed ears and little baby fangs, and his suit itself reminded her of the superheroes she’s faced before, but the material seemed all wrong when she got a closer look. It wasn’t spandex, or that thick armour like fibre that Batsy likes to use. She didn’t know what it was made out of. That flaming looking D was enough to hint at a superhero gig, like Superman and that ‘S’ on his chest. She didn’t care that it was supposed to be a symbol for hope, his name was Superman and that thing was an S, end of conversation.

The kid had taken off those gloves in order to eat, she didn’t blame him though, eating with gloves on was weird, and those white gloves would stain like a motherfucker. What caught her attention about it was the scars. Little one littered this kid's hands, and then there was a ligament scar coating his left hand. It was the brightest of all the scars, glowing slightly a wicked green as if he was still being electrocuted.

She turned her gaze back to the streets below, “So, what are you doing out this late?” She asked, avoiding sensitive topics like the scar. “It has to be way past midnight at this point.”

The kid glanced over to her, then shrugged, “had to chase Boxy all the way out here, the dude flies fast for a ghost obsessed in boxes.”

Harley glanced back over, noticing the kid now had finished the last of the sandwiches as he looked in the bag for more, shoving the garbage into it once he confirmed there was nothing left, “Boxy? Was that the freak in white?”

The kid shook his head, “nah, that was a government agent. G.I.W, or the Guys in White. Must’ve followed me, cornered me after I was already exhausted from chasing Boxy all over town. Boxy is the Box Ghost, blue ghost dude in overalls, fairly harmless but he can be a pain in the ass when he wants to be.”

“Want me to blow the rest of those agents up for you?” Harley asked, leaning closer while flashing a sinister grin.

The kid jerked back, “no! No it’s fine, just caught me off guard! I can handle them just fine, you don’t need to blow anyone up!” He squeaked out quickly, wildly waving his hands around. Harley couldn’t help but grin at the display, he reminded her a lot of Batsy’s kids. Energetic, good hearts (most of the time), think they can handle the world.

“So are you one of Batsy’s kids? Harley voiced her thoughts.

The kid blinked owlishly at her, “Batsy’s… you mean Batman? The Batman?”

Harley shrugged, “yeah, Batsy. He has quite a lot of them so I like to try and stay updated when he gets a new kid. You almost fit the bill, young teen, dark past, though the powers would be new.”

“How do you know I have a dark past?”

“Well, you said you were a ghost, right? Meaning you died and judging by your age, died before you even finished high school. I’d call that a dark past,” she kept out the lingering question of how he died, that wasn’t something you exactly ask someone when you first meet them. “So you aren’t one of Batsy’s kids?”

The kid shook his head, “nope,” he popped the p, “never even met the dark knight before. I barely visit Gotham, well anywhere if I can help it, I try to keep my problems in my home turf.”

“I see, you know what, I should’ve known better. Batsy would never let his kids run around this late anyway,” she hummed. “I did once see him chew a Robin out for fighting crime past his curfew, it got me arrested for sticking around to watch but boy was it worth it!” She laughed. She was surprised that Batman hadn’t gotten to this kid yet, anyhow. He didn’t always stick around Gotham ever since he joined that hero club, but that just meant that this dude had even more of a chance to find this kid. Must be dumb luck or something.

“Batman puts curfews on his sidekicks?” The kid asked, mouth agape.

“Well duh, the guy is all about the well-being of his kids. He has a no killing rule but he gets close to breaking it when one of his kids gets almost killed. He keeps them well fed, makes sure they sleep, I know because I can hear him from across rooftops at times and I fight enough of his kids to notice they aren’t skin and bones like you.”

The kid looked down at his ungloved hands, and she noticed him tracing the pattern of the ligament scar lightly with his other hand. His expression changed as he seemed to run through a series of thoughts before he spoke again, “why did you help me?” He asked, not looking up to meet her eyes, “you are a villain, right? You fight Batman and Robin, and other superheroes too if they face you. You know I’m not a villain, you said so yourself. So why help me? Wouldn’t it be better to just let a vigilante kid get knocked off so you don’t have to deal with him in future crimes?”

Harley felt her heart shatter, who the fuck hurt this kid like this? “I’m not some heartless bitch,” she said in a matter of fact tone, “you and all the teen sidekicks or vigilantes out there are still fucking kids. I have morals, and some villains don’t have the same morals as me, but seeing you getting kicked around by some freak in an alley where no one could see you? That kind of shit rubs me the wrong way. I fight teen heroes from time to time because I know they can handle it, they can fight back and I myself won’t stoop so low as to kill them if I manage to get in a few lucky hits.” She lightly nudged his shoulder, “and it’s not like you’ve personally wronged me or anything. I felt like being nice, helping out. You seem like a good kid, so why not help you out? Maybe one day I can call a favour and you can distract Bats while I kidnap the president?” She joked.

The kid looked up suddenly, sending his hair in rippling waves as he was giving her a wide eyed and the most worried look imaginable. She couldn’t help but let out another laugh, “I’m joking!” She clarified. “But I think we could have some pretty interesting game nights with Ivy. Not illegal game night, more like Uno or something. Maybe just a little gambling.”

The kid relaxed again, “well… uh… thanks. For helping me. And the food. And talking,” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking up at the sky.

“No problem, be sure to come visit again. Hey, maybe I can even introduce you to Bats at some point! Make a big show and pretend you are a villain and then BAM! Just kidding he’s just a glowing vigilante I helped out once!” She stood up, stretching her arms a little, “be sure to take it easy on your way to your home by the way, maybe take a nap or something on the way there.”

The kid nodded with a smile and stood up with her, then paused as shock filled his eyes and he spun quickly towards Harley, “Wait- how do you know I sleep-?”

Harley laughed, “well, I don’t think ghosts normally eat, so I’m assuming you sleep too,” she offered a soft smile, “just take it easy, and hey, if you ever find yourself in trouble.” Harley then pulled out a business card she usually kept for shits and giggles, handing over the poorly designed card to the kid, “know that you have a friend in Gotham who’s ready to help. And who knows how to get Batsy’s attention the fastest.” She winked.

The kid took the card, a confused grin tugging at his lips, “thanks. Hey, uh. I go by Phantom. Since I never really introduced myself.”

“Well Phantom, nice to meet you,” Harley grinned back.

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yamag00ps · 4 years ago

Text

Tsukishima: 6, You: 5

pairing: tsukishima x reader

genre: friends to lovers, work relationship

contains: fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: Being friends with Tsukishima Kei was essentially just a competition of who could get the last word.

a/n: this was really fun to write!!!! now where are my bitches who love the i hate everyone but you trope <3<3<3 enjoy :-)

"This idea was yours, you know?"

A voice spoke up behind you as you looked into the updated exhibit. You couldn't quite read his tone. You looked over your shoulder to see Tsukishima Kei standing behind you, playing with the cuffs of his button-up. You turned back to the exhibit before answering.

"Ah. You see, I was starting to think I just manifested it into existence."

"Yeah, I kept hearing this nagging voice in the back of my head for the past two weeks. Funny, you sound just like it."

The offended look on your face disappeared as he walked up next to you with a small smile on his face.

A month ago, you started your new job as a new tour guide at the local history museum. Tsukishima was one of the exhibit designers. Although you were only a tour guide, you were always vocal about your opinions on the displays and layouts of the different exhibits to your co-workers, hoping to work your way up to his position. Tsukishima would overhear these conversations and initially be irritated until he realized that your critiques were actually quite useful. You began to notice your own suggestions coming to life in the exhibits. On this particularly slow day at the museum, Tsukishima surprisingly sparked a conversation with you first.

"Tsukishima Kei. Exhibit designer." He held a hand out to you with a glint in his eyes. You bit back a smile and shook his hand.

"L/N, F/N. Tour guide. Future exhibit designer." His eyebrows raised in amusement.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 1

This was only the start of your unique friendship with Tsukishima Kei.

The next six months consisted of many exchanges of ideas, lingering gazes across exhibits, late nights at the museum, and constant banter. It was always a competition of who could get the last word.

Despite your love-hate relationship, you were very supportive of one another. Tsukishima would honestly ask for your input when drafting layouts and frequently joined visitors on your tours. During the tours, he pretended to hate whenever you would call him out in the crowd for designing a certain exhibit (he would never tell you, but he appreciated it every time).

"This particular exhibit was actually designed by that tall, handsome man in the back, Mr. Tsukishima Kei! If you have any questions I'm sure he'd love to answer them." You winked at him every time.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 2

He stated that he only joined your tours because he wanted to hear what visitors had to say about his work, which was partly true. But, even more than that, he enjoyed adored watching you in action. He found your passion and enthusiasm endearing and calming, especially on stressful days. The two of you grew close as you worked—always taking breaks at the same time and staying after to leave together. Despite the teasing and the banter, both of you cherished this unique friendship dearly.

As the time passed, it seemed that your hard work and ideas did not go unnoticed, as you were finally offered an exhibit designer position! The director called you in early that morning to meet with you and formally offer you the promotion. As you walked out of her office, your hands were already fumbling to call the only person that came to mind.

"Hello?"

“Morning! You’re late.”

“My train was delayed. Wait, don’t you have the night shift?”

"I, uh, lost my tour guide position.” Tsukishima stopped in his tracks.

“..What?”

“Yeah, kinda bummed. I was pretty good at it, don’t you think?”

He couldn’t understand your tone. He wouldn’t admit it, but he hoped you’d be at least a little more upset that you wouldn’t be working together anymore.

“Y-yeah. Wait. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Time for me to move on to better things, you know?” Ouch.

“But-”

“Hey, Kei? Exhibit designer to exhibit designer, are we supposed to be rivals now?" He could practically hear the smile on your face.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 3

At that exact moment, Tsukishima walked through the entrance of the building. Your eyes met and he hoped you didn’t notice the wave of relief washing over him.

“You’re an idiot,” he stood at the entrance, still talking to you on the phone.

“I believe the correct term is exhibit designer,” you mused.

"Oh god, no.." he groaned, slowly walking up to you with a smirk on his face. “Oh, yes,” you fired back. Unable to contain your excitement any longer, you hung up the phone and ran to him, stopping in front of him abruptly. He cocked a brow, waiting for you to explain as you held your hands behind your back.

"Sooooo.. I guess the director liked my ideas and..um, you know. Thought I’d be a fantastic fit or something," you shrugged nonchalantly, "You know, no biggie, it's whatever." Your efforts to hide the giddy smile on your face were useless. His smile mirrored yours, growing bigger and bigger with every word you spoke. You raised your eyebrows, awaiting his reaction.

He shook his head and marveled at you. I always want to see you this happy, he thought.

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 4

He stayed silent, wanting to see how long it would take for you to start pouting. He lived to drag reactions out of you. But this time, the look on his face ratted him out. His eyes softened as he took you in. Ever since the day you met, he found that this happened often. The walls he built to shut people out were no match for the sound of your voice, the feel of your head on his shoulder, or the endearing smile on your face whenever your eyes met his from across the room. He was putty in your hands and you didn’t even know it.

"Well?" You poked his chest, becoming impatient. He chuckled and grabbed your hands, pulling you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he buried you into his chest.

"You loser. You're amazing,” he sighed and rested his chin on the top of your head. “I mean, I’m not surprised. But I'm really proud of you.” He paused. “But don’t scare me like that,” he mumbled. Your heart warmed at his sincerity.

"Aw, Kei, you're hugging me,” you cooed and held him tighter. You tried to move back to look up at him only for him to push your head back into his chest.

"Yeah, I just don't want to see your face when I'm saying nice things to you.”

"Tsk," you swatted at his arm but snuggled into him anyway. “You know what? I’ll take it. Thank you, Kei.” He kept an arm hooked around you and used his free hand to lightly flick the top of your head.

"Alright, get to work you two! Y/N, congrats on the promotion." The museum director passed by, giving both of you a knowing smile. You quickly stepped away from each other as you thanked her with a pink tint on your cheeks. You began to turn away from Tsukishima until he grabbed your hand.

"We're getting dinner later."

"Oh, we don't have t—"

"I want to. Now, come on. Can't have my co-exhibit designer slacking off on their first day," his tone attempted to be stern as he pulled you towards the staff room.

"You really are so sweet," you teased but happily followed anyway.

"Shut up."

Tsukishima Kei: 0, You: 5

Now, you were sitting across the same man you love to hate at your favorite restaurant.

"I have an idea." The dumb smirk you've grown to love appeared on Tsukishima's face. You loved when he was like this. His playful demeanor was a stark contrast to his usual stoic expression. You had the two glasses of wine to thank for that.

You raised an eyebrow telling him to go on.

"I think this celebration calls for some free dessert," he leaned in to tell you this as if he was letting you in on a secret.

"What do you mean free?"

He grabbed your hand resting on the table.

"I'm going to borrow this." He started pulling off one of your rings.

"Wh—"

"Shhh, just go with it." Keeping your hand in his, he moved off of his seat and knelt down in front of you. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets as you started whisper yelling at him to get up. This worked to his advantage as your shock only made it look more real.

"Oh my god. Kei, no," you tried to say sternly as you leaned down to him, but the alcohol in your system threw you into a fit of nervous giggles. You looked around the restaurant in a panic, hiding your face in your hands until he pulled one down and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

The pure amusement on his face contrasted with the sincere look in his eyes. The blush on your face boosted his ego more than he cared to admit.

You attempted to scold him again. “Tsukishima Kei, if you don’t get up right n—“

To your dismay, your waitress came over to your table and gasped at the scene unfolding in front of her. One by one, everyone’s attention turned to the blonde-haired man down on one knee. Tsukishima dropped his head and laughed, trying to hide the blush on his face. He cursed under his breath. Fuck. Suddenly the alcohol was wearing off. What has he done?

You lifted his chin up with your free hand, forcing him to look up at you again.

“You better put on a show for them,” you challenged him, knowing he hated this kind of attention. He noted the proximity between your faces and the way you squeezed his hand as a form of reassurance. The sparkle in your eyes was all it took for him to collect himself again. The people near you began shushing everyone else around them.

Well. Now or never, he thought. This will be easy.

He took a deep breath as you looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to chicken out.

“L/N, F/N. I fell for you the moment we met.”

Oh.

Tsukishima Kei: 1, You: 5

Your heart clenched at his words, but you quickly shook the feeling. This was just for a free dessert, right?

“Oh, really now?” You thought back to that moment and snickered under your breath, only for him to hear. He squeezed your hand, silently telling you to shut up. This only made you giggle more.

“You are my light. My life only works with you in it,” he announced.

Your breath hitched. Now that shut you up.

Tsukishima Kei: 2, You: 5

“I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me."

Tsukishima Kei: 3, You: 5

“I love you. Your wit, your humor, your passion, your drive.. your kindness. All of it.”

Tsukishima Kei: 4, You: 5

“That’s enough,” you whispered and started shaking your head. You knew this was just for show, but why did hearing his words set a fire in you? Why was your heart aching?

“I fall in love with you more and more everyday. I’ll fall harder tomorrow and even harder the day after that. Please give me all of your tomorrows. Please marry me.”

Damn, he was good.

Tsukishima Kei: 5, You: 5

Your eyes began to water. Where was this coming from? Is he actually that good of an actor? Your expression was a mixture of confusion, shock, and a hint of irritation. Unable to comprehend any of your feelings, you shook your head and remembered that you had to play along for that goddamn dessert.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes!” you nodded, trying not to look too enthusiastic about this fake proposal. Everyone around you erupted into cheers, the flash of numerous phones and cameras blinding you. Tsukishima put the ring on your finger and chuckled as he stood up and pulled you in for a hug, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You laughed into his chest at the insanity of it all.

“I’m sorry if that was t—“ Whatever he was saying was cut short by the crowd around you.

“Oh come on, give her a real kiss!” “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” “Kiss her!”

You groaned and felt his laughter erupt through his chest. Pulling back to look at him, you shook your head in disbelief. He lightly held onto your waist and pulled you close, his forehead resting onto yours.

“We really don’t have to, not if it makes you uncomfortable,” he assured you.

“Pft, you’re not the only one who can put on a show,” you quipped. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the alcohol—whatever it was, you surrendered to it as you pulled him down by his collar and crashed your lips into his. You tasted the wine on his lips, savoring every second in case you would never get the opportunity again. After a few seconds, you began to pull away only for him to attach his lips onto yours again. One of his hands cupped your face while the other gripped your waist, not wanting you to pull away just yet. You matched his fervor, losing yourself in him.

The cheers in the restaurant quickly brought you back down to earth as you pulled away and hid your face in his chest again. He chuckled and rubbed the sides of your arms, soothing you. You pulled back to look at him with a small smile on your face.

“So you do know how to be nice to me,” you gushed, breaking the tension.

“I am nice to you!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but not that nice,” you teased, pulling him down to you again. Tsukishima shook his head and left a kiss on your cheek.

“You kissed me first,” he reminded you, mumbling against your cheek.

“Hm.. Guess you’ll just have to kiss me first next time,” you gave him a quick peck. Before he could pull you in again, your waitress arrived with two pieces of chocolate cake with the words Congrats! drizzled on the plate next to a heart. You pulled away from him to thank the waitress and the people around you, allowing them to go back to their meals. He pulled your chair out for you, ignoring the smug look on your face.

Before taking his seat, he leaned down and murmured against your ear, “There better be a next time,” leaving you a blushing mess.

“Next time” ended up being an hour later against the front door of your apartment. From then on, there were a lot of “next times.”

Tsukishima Kei: 6, You: 5

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

a/n: wait and then in the future after you two actually get married, you end up have two “wedding” anniversaries hehe and he always makes sure to celebrate both but he’ll never admit that he highkey loves celebrating the fake one more than the real one because it was such a sweet memory :p AW tsukki

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #tsukishima kei x reader

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mycatshuman · 5 years ago

Text

Good Deeds

Prisons

Warnings: slight angst, Remus drunk, Mrs. Deeds is a bitch, let me know if I missed any.

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety, background logicality

Sorry I didn't post last week, I got a new phone and I don't have the links to all the parts anymore and I haven't felt like getting them, but I did for this story so I could post this. (I didn't put the Masterlist link for most of my work because I forgot about it and I just want to get this posted. Sorry.)

| Previous | Next | More

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Roman hummed as he took the pot of mac and cheese off the stove and set it down on top of a pot holder on the dining room table. After that he grabbed the hot dogs and set them on the table beside the pot. With one last quick check to make sure that he had the plates and utensils that they would need to eat, Roman smiled and left the dining room to go get Thomas for dinner. He walked into the room he had designated for Thomas.

"Prince Thomas, dinner is ready. Please join me in the dining room," Roman said as he projected his voice dramatically.

Thomas looked up from where he was playing with some legos. "What's for dinner?"

"Mac and cheese and hot dogs, sir."

Thomas's face split into a grin and he shot up and raced past Roman. Roman chuckled as he followed and found Thomas already sitting at the table. Roman quickly plated their food before sitting down and beginning to dig in. "So," Roman started. "How was school today?"

"It was good," Thomas began. "We learned some stuff. And Joan and Talyn and I played Dragon Witch," Thomas stopped to eat some more food.

"Dragon Witch?" Roman paused in his eating. "I've never heard of that before, what is it?"

"Well, a dragon witch is a witch that can turn into a dragon and Joan Talyn and I choose who is the dragon witch and then who isn't the dragon witch is a royal and a knight and we have to defeat the dragon witch."

"Interesting," Roman commented. "Is a dragon witch similar to Maleficent?"

"No-" Thomas paused as he took a moment to think about it. "Wait! Yes!" He exclaimed as he had a realization that Maleficent was a dragon witch.

Roman hummed, impressed. "Wow! I'm honored to be having dinner with someone who can handle a dragon witch!" Thomas giggled and Roman smiled softly.

The room went silent for a little bit as the two ate their dinner. Roman stopped eating for a moment as he watched Thomas eat. "I talked to your brother earlier today."

Thomas dropped his fork. "What'd he say?"

"He said he should be released in a few days."

"Can we go see him soon?"

"Yeah, we can go tomorrow."

Thomas grinned. "Thank you!" Thomas went back to eating as Roman smiled and did the same.

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

"Virgil!"

"Thomas!"

Roman laughed as Thomas ran into Virgil's hospital room and climbed up onto the bed. Virgil pulled him into a big hug as Roman walked into the room with another balloon Thomas wanted to give his brother. "Roman said you'd be getting out soon!"

"He's right, buddy." Virgil smiled as his brother beamed at him. "It'll be in the next few days." Where are you going to go? The question nagged at the back of Virgil's brain but he shoved in harshly aside in favor of spending time with his brother.

"Can we dye our hair again?" Thomas asked as he began playing with the hospital blanket.

Virgil bit his lip. Was Roman actually going to help them out? Would he be mad if I wasted money on hair dye? "We'll see-"

"Yeah!" Roman exclaimed. "We should all get our hair dyed!" Thomas looked over to Roman as his face lit up and he let out a squeal of excitement. Virgil froze. Wait, what? That wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to get mad and stop helping us. "Although, you two will have to help me seeing as I've never had my hair dyed before. If I mess it up will it turn my skin rainbow?"

Thomas giggled. "No! It'll just be like if you get paint on you!"

Roman let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Oh thank goodness, I was worried."

Virgil felt himself calming down as his brother giggled at Roman. "What color were you thinking?" He asked as he blocked out his negative thoughts.

Roman looked thoughtful for a few moments before turning to Thomas. "What do you think, little Prince?"

Thomas climbed out of the hospital bed and stood back at a distance as he put his fingers up like he was checking angles for a camera. Virgil laughed as his brother inspected Roman. The other adult looked downright nervous. Pure entertainment for Virgil. "Maybe red?"

Roman gasped. "My favorite color! How'd you know?"

Virgil gasped dramatically. "Oh my goodness! Thomas, did you hear that? You two have the same favorite color!" Thomas gasped before he laughed and hugged Roman.

"We can get matching hair colors just like Virgil and I did!"

Virgil could see the sparkling stars in Roman's eyes as his face lit up. "Oh my stars, yes!" Roman picked Thomas up and began twirling around the room with him. "We would be like twins!!!!" He exclaimed as Thomas giggled and shrieked with joy. Virgil felt his cheeks color from embarrassment over smiling so much in one day.

"You guys are dorks," he commented.

The two "dorks" as Virgil called them stopped and looked at Virgil. They looked at him and then looked at each other before looking at him again. They looked at each other and then turned back to Virgil where their faces split into a wicked grin. "Uhhhhh," Virgil began. "You guys are scaring me."

Thomas hopped forward. "You can join us, Virgil! We can all be matching!!!"

"What?!?" Virgil shrieked. "No!"

"Please!" Roman begged as he got on his knees and scooted over to Virgil's bedside and looked up at him with puppy dog eyes.

"No," Virgil responded and turned away from him before the eyes actually worked only to be hit with puppy dog eyes from Thomas. "And then he cracked. "Fine! We can all get matching hair dyes."

"Yay!" The other two exclaimed leaving Virgil to wonder how the hell did he ever feel intimidated by Roman.

--------

Roman led Virgil and Thomas into an apartment a few days after Virgil got out of the hospital. "There's a bathroom here and a bed room here, and this is a second right next to it," Roman explained as he walked them through the apartment.

"Do you need me to clean it?" Virgil asked, hoping this was going to help him get the money for a place for him and his brother so they wouldn't be bothering Roman.

"Clean?" Roman asked, confused for a moment before laughing. "Oh, no! I want you two to live here?"

Virgil blinked. "What?" He looked around. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you so much-" he said, assuming the other was tired of him getting in his way.

"No! That's not it, I just figured you would want your space and-" Roman flushed bright red. "-I don't want you to feel like we have to go faster in this relationship. I want you to be able to not feel obligated to move faster. We're taking it slow and yeah." Virgil blushed as Roman bit his lip. "It's a corporate apartment. And we have a few of them, but you can live here as long as you like."

"I-I don't know if I can accept this."

"Please, Virgil. Do it for Thomas. I promise you, this does not mean you owe me anything, I swear."

Virgil hugged himself as he thought it over. "Okay," he began. "Okay. Thank you so much."

Roman smiled. "No problem."

"Can I jump on the bed?" Thomas asked as he came out of the one bedroom he had been looking in.

The adults laughed. "Of course!" Roman exclaimed. "Have fun!"

Thomas grinned and ran in and began jumping on the bed as Roman turned back to Virgil. "Now, I'm going to take you guys grocery shopping, but it doesn't have to be now. You guys can focus on moving your things in and I can bring you some takeout to eat while you work or we can get the food first?"

Tears pooled in Virgil's eyes causing Roman to think he did something wrong until Virgil wrapped his arms around him and cried into his chest. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

Roman smiled and hugged him back. "You're welcome. I'm so happy you are happy."

"Beyond happy," Virgil mumbled into the other's chest, unaware of the heat coloring Roman's cheeks. "Thank you."

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

Roman and Logan looked up as a light knock sounded. "Virgil!" Roman exclaimed as his face broke into a wide smile. Logan shot a glance to Roman before looking back at the man in the doorway to Roman's office. "Come in! Come in!"

Virgil nervously stepped into the office and gave a small nod to Logan. "Virgil, it's nice to see you. Patton has been updating me on how you and Thomas have been doing but it is simply not the same. Maybe we can work out a time to get together soon."

"Yeah," Virgil said lamely.

Roman bit his lip. It seemed Virgil was friends with Patton and Logan but he wasn't enough to tell them his situation. It made Roman feel weird. Warm. He of course knew that Virgil hadn't told him of their situation on purpose but, it made him feel slightly warm that Virgil allowed him to remain in the know.

"I will take my leave now, Patton and I have a lunch date," Logan excused himself and left the two alone.

Virgil bit his lip as an awkward silence filled the room. He sighed. "Can I take you to lunch?"

Roman's eyes lit up. "Of course!" Roman stood up and stepped out from behind his desk.

Virgil smiled. "I'll lead the way," and Virgil walked out first, Roman following behind. The two got into the elevator and Virgil pushed the button for the bottom floor before turning to Roman. "Just to let you know, we're walking."

Roman narrowed his eyes. "So, it's somewhere we can walk to, hhmm."

Virgil snorted. "You really can't wait until we get there to find out?"

"I'm impatient! I can't help it!" Roman whined which only caused Virgil to laugh more. Roman became too distracted to even think about where they could be going as he was basking in the beauty that was Virgil's laugh. Virgil, however, quickly slapped him outta it. "Ow!" Roman exclaimed.

Virgil chuckled. "Stop staring at me then. Come on, let's go."

The two hopped off the elevator and left the building. They walked on the sidewalk, weaving their way past other people chatting lightly until Virgil stopped in front of a small shop. "Here we are," he said and opened the door for Roman. "After you."

Roman blushed. "Thank you." He stepped inside and looked around curiously. The sign outside had read Fairytale Diner and it did not disappoint. The inside of the shop looked like it was straight out of a storybook. The walls were painted with a gorgeous landscape. Beautiful green forests with a shimmering blue-green river. Fairy lights were strung up along the walls and they twinkled as if they held a magical secret. As Roman and Virgil were seated, he noticed that each chair seemed to be designed to look like thrones. And each table looked like the round table from the King Arthur legend. Upon receiving the menu, he noticed each dish was named after a fairytale.

"How did you find this place?" He said in awe.

Virgil laughed. "I did some digging. I like themed restaurants and this one seemed cool so I took Thomas here one time and he loved it. Figured a Disney geek like yourself would like it too."

Roman smiled. "Yeah, you're right about that."

"I'm glad."

As the two men enjoyed their food, they talked about whatever crossed their minds. The conversation seemed to flow easily, between the two, no hiccups that Virgil worried about occurred. It was a perfect little lunch date. Nice and cozy. And as the two made their way back to the office, they just walked in comfortable silence. They said a quick goodbye at the doors to the office building before they parted ways. Virgil would rest some more and Roman would go back to work.

Roman floated through the doorway to his office on a high.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "I assume you are feeling a metaphorical high from your lunch with Virgil, is that a correct assumption?"

"Yeah," Roman sighed happily. "It was amazing."

"I could deduce as such. Now, on to business He accepted it."

"Virgil accepted my proposal?" Roman asked as he began to slowly wake up from his daydream.

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, we're talking business, Roman." Logan sighed. "Your company's competitor has accepted the agreement, you will be taking them over once both parties sign the papers."

"Oh!" Roman exclaimed, effectively having been broken out of his daydream. "That's great." Roman supposed. He felt slightly guilty for not being as excited about this as he was about his lunch with Virgil but, he really didn't enjoy his job. No matter how much he tried to. "I'll call my mom and tell her…" Roman said numbly as he moved over to his desk and picked up his office phone.

Logan frowned. "No, hey, let's get the agreements signed first, okay Roman?" Logan pushed the phone back down and guided his friend to his seat. "We can have everyone come here on Monday and make the announcement then and celebrate. Okay?" Roman nodded. "Okay, go-ahead and get yourself lost in your fantasy for a bit longer, I'm sure you'd rather think about Virgil than anything else."

"Thank you," Roman sighed. He really did have the best friends he could ask for.

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

Roman stood in front of his employees as he held a glass of champagne. "I just have to tell you that my father, Walter Deeds is smiling down from heaven on this moment right now. We took over the competitor that caused him a lot of stress over th years and I'm very proud of it. I know my mother, Ms. Wilimena Deeds is also very proud of it. Thank you everyone. And don't drink too much we still have four more hours of work left," Roman chuckled. His employees cheered as he toasted his glass.

The elevator doors opened and he turned to see Virgil step through the doors anxiously. Roman's face lit up. "Virgil!" He exclaimed happily and went to meet him. Remus raised an eyebrow as he watched his brother. Their mother looked at Virgil suspiciously. "How are you doing?" Roman asked brightly.

"I, uh," Virgil fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie. "I didn't know this was going on, I can call you later-" Virgil moved to leave but Roman shook his head. "No, it's okay, what did you want?"

"Who is he?" Roman's mother asked.

Remus snorted. "What? Don't you ever see "the help"? He's a janitor."

"A janitor?" Their mother asked, disgusted. Ms. Deeds' eyes narrowed as she walked over to the two. "Hello," she greeted, her voice sickly sweet.

"Oh," Roman started as he noticed his mother, his smile dimmed. "This is my mother, Wilimena. Mother, this is Virgil."

Ms. Deeds smiled. "How long have you known my son?"

Virgil unnoticeably frowned. "Uh, I don't know. A little month or so?"

Ms. Deeds smiled as if she knew something Virgil didn't. "You know my son has a penchant for projects. He loves taking them on, renovating them. Buying small businesses and making them bigger and better. Then he sells them and walks away."

Roman stared at his mom dumbfounded as Virgil bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably. "Do you really have to suck the life out of everyone you meet, mother?" Remus asked.

Ms. Deeds' nose flared in anger. "Go home, you're drunk."

"You only pay attention to me when I make a scene!" Remus screamed. Roman sighed and guided Virgil to the elevator. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Remus followed them and stormed into the elevator and began pressing random buttons rapidly to leave quicker. The doors closed and they began moving until the elevator stopped. "We're stuck," Virgil said after a moment of not moving. "Oh my god! We're stuck. We're gonna die! We're gonna die!" He began panicking. He slid down the wall and sat with his knees to his chest and buried his face in his knees. Roman kneeled next to him and tried to comfort him as his brother let out a broken laugh.

"Isn't it ironic?" Remus chuckled humorlessly. "We're all stuck here. Just like you're stuck in a career you don't even want or like," Remus cried angrily. "I hate you!" He screamed before breaking down. Tears dripped from Roman's eyes as he watched his twin break down in front of him for the first time since they were teenagers. It was jarring. And it scared him. And it had scared Virgil too judging by his flinches when Remus yelled.

And so, the three men cried to themselves as they waited to be rescued from their prisons.

----------

Everything: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws @odette-ssbu

Good Deeds: @ureilthealienboio @midnight-personal @supreme-overlord-bubbles @dn-fan21 @soul-of-a-vixen @mellow-yellow-nutella @anxious-but-trying-my-best @sanders-sides-rebloger @kool-bi-69 @ghosttb0y @thevirgantone @prismartist @shamelesslypoetic @icequeenoriginal @are-you-even--real @sparkedawg

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elichorph · 4 years ago

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OH SHIT???? did you see avery jeong buying princess bandaids at the local cvs after punching out somebody’s car window??? anyways, he’s a legacy and a member of the yale's elite, they're twenty-three and a 1st year grad student majoring in mechanical engineering. they are as strong willed as they are naive.

hello, i am back with my third character. yes this is my second character that has a 5 letter name that starts with an a. yes this intro is extremely long. if you read it i will send you a gif of your fav celeb to thank you.

stats:

full name: avery tobias jeong nicknames: ave age: twenty three birthday: march 8, 1998 ( yeah he’s technically 22 right now but he’ll be 23 soon enough ) chart: pisces sun, aries moon, cancer rising siblings: one ( lilia, younger sister ) gender: cis male pronouns: he / him sexuality: bisexual & biromantic height: 6′0 hair color: black tattoos: random tattoos on his arms, faded hand tattoos (specifically an angel on his left hand) piercings: right earlobe ring

blackmail:

( violence & drugs tw )

he had an unplanned child at nineteen with his ex-girlfriend who he now has little to no contact with. his ex dug up a public intoxication charge that avery’s family had paid to cover up in order to place a restraining order on him and deny him custody of the child.

he was involved in an underground fighting ring for multiple years as a means to make money after being cut off by his family. however, he always took fights too far and was banned from the ring in new haven after he nearly killed one of his opponents.

family:

if you’ve already read lilia’s intro then you can skip this because it’s the same thing!

ya’ll ever read one of those drug ring ao3 fanfics where y/n is dating the sexy drug cartel leader? well that’s their family!

generational family blood money because that’s how cartels work i think. started running + dealing three generations back with their great-grandparents in order for them to make a living. it wasn’t until the so-called business was handed down to their grandparents that they wanted to expand and generate more money. the big pharma cover was created in order for them to manufacture, distribute, and supply at a larger scale. present day, their family name has notoriety with other cartel and mafia families.

basically avery was supposed to take over because he was the oldest right, but lilia did not want that at all. their parents started favoring avery and schmoozing up to him a little bit to get him to say yes (even though avery was fully prepared to give lilia the position) and lilia was like! what the fuck! so she told their parents about this one time that avery accidentally blabbed the family secret to a stranger at a party which broke their one rule of keeping it a secret. their parents wanted nothing to do with him anymore and completely cut avery off and kicked him out of the family.

everyone knows that avery and lilia are siblings, even though they don’t really know the actual details about their past together because avery doesn’t say anything about his family and the cartel is a secret. now that they are both at yale and in the elites together they are just kinda like haha awkward <3 they basically would just tell everyone that they grew apart if other characters tried to pry but also lilia is now telling people that avery fucked up a business decision which is why he left the family and avery is like alright but good luck trying to get other info out of them! xo, the jeongs

present:

after being kicked out of his family, avery booked it to new haven to attend yale. he was able to score a full ride after graduating as the valedictorian of a specialized school for science in nyc and for continuously staying near if not at the top of his class. literally this man is a casual genius. he will get drunk as hell and talk about math for the entire night even if you don’t care. avery joined the elites in his junior year and even though he technically is a legacy from his family, he told them that if he was going to join, he wanted to be recruited for his academics because fuck if he was going to use his family name!

to expand a little more on blackmails, avery was broke as shit after coming to new haven. he still is, but he literally had so little money to his name and eventually found an underground fighting ring and made money by winning matches through that because he is Beefy and a Unit and his anger issues could be released <3 but he would always go a little too hard and would near murk his opponents, especially this one time that caused him to be banned from the ring. now for money he just fixes up people’s air conditioners and fridges and shit and also works maintenance at a hotel chain around connecticut to get money when he really needs it <3 literally if you need something fixed hit him up and he’ll be happy to do it but he would also love if you made him dinner to thank him because he has eaten too much kraft mac n cheese.

when avery was a sophomore, his girlfriend of a few months accidentally got pregnant whoops <3 and he was ready to literally drop everything for his girlfriend and daughter, but his girlfriend didn’t want that because she was lowkey a bitch! she ended up using a secret that avery had told her (that he had a public intoxication charge that his family had covered up) and took him to court and got his custody rights taken away and a restraining order placed on him and then dropped out of yale before anybody could know about the baby and zoomed to another state and now avery is like ok <3 his daughter’s name is skye though and she is four now and sometimes he still gets updates but literally it eats him alive hahaha

personality:

basically paddington going through an emo phase. he has extreme rbf and might be a solid unit who looks intimidating, but he genuinely is so sweet. by his looks you’d expect him to push you down the stairs but in reality he’s the kid who is 20 minutes late to class to hold the door open for people and he’ll feel good about it even if nobody says thank you to him.

certified sad boy! the extremely nice guy you meet at a house party who remembers what drink you like from some time you apparently met three months ago? avery loves house parties for real and will be the angel who cleans up at 5am even if he’s got an exam at 8. he loves to take care of people to fill his fatherly void even though he’s the one that needs help the most.

accepts the fact that he’s now #poor now, but he also gets kind of insecure and jealous seeing everybody pop off with a britney work bitch vc bugatti. tries to keep up with people looks wise at least, he has one old balenciaga cross body bag that has holes in it, way too many ripped pairs of designer jeans, and a scratched gucci belt that you will see him sporting often. might want to bash your face in if you flaunt your wealth and gets kind of whiny about it sometimes.

avery is the type of person that loves the outdoors and going on picnics. his romantic dream is to lay under a tree with the soft summer breeze and play some guitar for the love of his life <3 yes he has a guitar and yes he is actually good at singing even though he gets embarrassed about it. he fucking loves music.

still has that aries moon though, is extremely defensive and my one character who will actually fight in the group chat because what the fuck does he have to lose at this point! avery has extreme anger issues that hurt him more than anything. even though he’s banned from the underground fighting ring, he still needs an outlet and will have his hands shoved in his pockets because they’re either bruised to shit or discolored from how many times they have been bruised. can be found walking home after taking the late bus so he could go scream in a field somewhere.

this man? also naive as fuck. has been hurt by too many people and really just sets him up at this point. an open book most of the time, so much that it hurts him. will tell you everything about himself like the way he can’t sleep in silence and has to have ocean noises playing, but he can’t listen to whale noises because sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night and thinks it’s a ghost. however, his family stuff is off limits and he will spit in your face if you even think about asking him about it.

won’t hold grudges. the type to see a person for who they are as a whole and if they mess up, he’s just like “you’re better than that /: but it’s fine.” probably why he gets hurt so much

wanted connections

a roommate maybe? i pictured him living in an apartment because he probably wouldn’t be able afford live anywhere else. could be besties, could be someone he barely knows but he just needed someone to move in to split the rent.

the one person who he’ll let take care of him. it probably would take a lot to break through his walls, but this person can calm him down after he gets riled up.

since his ex went to yale, maybe one person who knew her and had somewhat of an idea of what happened. they don’t know everything but maybe from what they heard from his ex, they believe everything was avery’s fault and that he fucked her over entirely.

gut wrenching hate plots of where they really love each other but things just can’t work out for one way or another.

gentle romance <3 slow burn. someone who won’t hurt him PLEASE.

aaaaand someone who takes advantage of how naive he is

and friends. so many friends. he is just so friendly and he isn’t the type to hold shit over people’s heads.

other links

#intro

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kitanoko · 5 years ago

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In which the doctor meets his match Part 4!!

Note: I haven’t updated this since Sept 2018....y’all thought you seen the last of me HAHA. Finally, things are building up ....... shinsou is also going to meet todoroki EVENTUALLY ~

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 here

Read Part 3 here

Warm.

That was the only thing Yaoyorozu could think of when he shook her hands and laid a gaze that lingered on her luscious, mascara-coated lashes a second too long. She unknowingly scratched little circles on the hardcover of her lacquered folder when she looked up and saw the way he’d run his hand through his hair as the two walked out of the meeting room.

It was habit that she had come to notice Todoroki would do whenever he was about to say something but hesistates. A feeling stirred inside her and her arm tensed. It was definitely Aizawa sensei’s fault for making the atmosphere so….strange now, Yaoyorozu thought. She’s going to his office straight away after to demand an explanation!

The receptionist immediately dropped whatever she was doing when the two closed the meeting door, her eyes directing at the white and red haired man. Yaoyorozu knew the receptionist was checking the doctor out and she rolled her eyes.

The elevator slid open after a short while and Todoroki waved a goodbye. He entered, hands naturally smoothing out the bottom of his suit, and pressed the door to ground floor. Yaoyorozu, catching his teeny smile the second before the door fully closed, mirrored his gesture and hugged the newly signed contract to her chest even more as if protecting it.

Yaoyorozu had agreed to conduct a site visit this Saturday (which was sort of silly since she could go to his clinic right now if she wanted to) and cradled the papers in her hand even closer to her heart.

“So he signed?” A voice rose behind her with a teasing tone and she turned to see Aizawa crossing his arms, shifting his body weight on the wall beside him. The smirk that had formed on his face wrinkled his jaw. Yaoyorozu huffed, making sure to be conspicuously annoyed.

“Yes he did sensei…but I cannot believe you! You came in and made it so awkward!”

Aizawa’s smirk did not fade. “I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t like Shinsou.”

At the mention of their rival’s name, Yaoyorozu scrunched her nose. She playfully slapped her mentor’s arm, a tint of pink highlighting her cheeks, and huffed again, earning her a light chuckle from the man.

Just three weeks ago, the aforementioned Shinsou showed up at their doorstep, asking to speak with her. Yaoyorozu was slightly weary –after all, they have never worked together before (and he’d always convince her to quit Erase) but figured if he was coming for an alleged business opportunity, she’d better hold onto the chance. The potential client was a millionaire who wanted to design a chain of malls he had just acquired. Shinsou, being the sole designer in his growing firm, decided to seek help from Erase. Yaoyorozu respected his humbleness and ambition and so had agreed to meet him.

Their discussion was great and from it she learnt a lot about Shinsou’s character. He was overall quite quiet, lips always in a thin line, and hair always disheveled (reminded her a lot of Aizawa to be frank). It was hard reading his expressions. Despite this, deep down, Yaoyorozu knew Shinsou’s passion for design shown through his work. The way he’d use his words to paint a beautiful picture of the planned end product was admirable. Yaoyorozu decided that Shinsou was no doubt a talent that she could learn from. Unfortunately, the deal busted and so they had to terminate the contract. Aizawa began to tease her about Shinsou ever since; he suspected there was something ‘blossoming’ between them but of course Yaoyorozu would scoff every time.

It had bothered her however. Recalling that every time Shinsou had come, Aizawa and the former would always politely greet each other but something about the conversations between them had displayed a familiarity between the two. Yaoyorozu never asked but she had a feeling they had known each other for a long time.

“….I knew you’d bring it up.” Yaoyorozu said, walking beside her mentor.

“Hey, I’m not the one who’s getting phone calls from that guy still.”

“Shinsou and I are STRICTLY business. ONLY.” She emphasized, raising her index finger. Yaoyorozu had met Shinsou for dinner once (on friendly terms) but she wasn’t going to let anyone know that other than her best friends. Aizawa shrugged.

“There’s no conflict of interest by the way, just looking out for my favourite student!”

“Oh please…curl back up in your worm suit and take a nap to rewire your mind.” Yaoyorozu stuck her tongue out childishly at her mentor and took a step towards her desk. She sat down and kicked off her heels and changed to her Tory Burch flats. “Feel free to ask admin to stock up on the white chip macademia cookies in the pantry, I may need some sugar for the weekend.”

Aizawa saw the spark in her eyes. “Sure, you got it,” he said and left.

Yaoyorozu licked her bottom lip and stretched, curling her toes inside her shoes. Cracking her knuckles, she straightened herself in her ergonomic chair.

The designer was starting this project with a bang.

“So?” Kendou asked. She walked over to the table next to the couch to stack the Elle magazines back into a neat pile. “The designer’s going to come in on Saturday, when?”

The sun was setting, casting shadows over Kendou’s perfect bright ponytail and the streets were beginning to fill with crowds of the after-work drinking group. There were quite a few hang out dens around this area which was something that benefitted Todoroki. He’d often meet up with his longtime friends after his shift.

Todoroki cracked his neck and leaned over the counter with a mug in hand. He was now back in his suit which had cracked Kendou right up because of their contrast. She was wearing an Ivy Park tank with leggings while he looked like he was ready to hit up a gala.

“She’s free any time but I told her to come at 3 since we’d be done by then.”

“Okay, sounds good. Any idea what it’s gonna look like after?”

“It’ll be traditional Japanese-inspired, something I’ve thought about since before our latest renovation.”

“Which may I remind you was only a year ago.”

“Right.”

Kendou cocked a brow, strolling back the other way to grab the purse locked under the front desk. “So what made you suddenly feel like we needed a makeover again? I don’t think we ever got to that.”

The doctor took a sip of his drink, avoiding eye contact.

“There’s never a bad time to make our patients feel at home you know.”

That answer was awfully suspect but Kendou knew there was no point in interrogating the doctor about it. The clinic is his after all and no one but him would know how he wanted to envision the place.

The girl looped her arm through the handles of her canvas bag. “May I also remind you that I doubt anyone’s homes look like a ryokan except for yours?”

Todoroki gave a chuckle, lips resting to a small smile. He looked almost proud. “Yes of course. I guess I wanted to make sure the patients feel like they’re at my home, alright?”

Kendou laughed. “Making jokes now are we? You’re in a chipper mood, doctor. I’m heading out. Tetstutetsu and I are getting yakitori so I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

“See ya.”

With that the orange haired girl hopped out of the clinic with a skip in her steps.

Todoroki’s shoulders slumped a little when he turned his gaze back to the front desk. His eyes landed on a nearby medical poster and he curled his fingers around his mug once more. The office was silent except for the bustle of people’s laughter and chitter seeping through the door and he casually strolled over to switch off all the lights on his right.

The phone beside the mug began to shake and vibrate, then ‘X gon give it to ya’ started booming from it. Todoroki’s brow twitched a little seeing his screen brightening.

It was Bakugou.

“Yea?” Todoroki answered in a monotone voice, lifting his phone to his ear, “What’s up.”

“I hate hearing your voice too, half-n-half,” Bakugou grunted.

Todoroki exhaled a little, chuckling, “Need me for something?”

“No..well yes. But no, not me. Harry Potter says he’s planning a surprise party for his girlfriend uh…you know, what’s her face. Purple hair girl. He wanna check if ya can come with. I don’t wanna go but I will just because I’m feeling generous.”

“What a sacrifice,” Todoroki retorted, pressing the phone between his ear and shoulder, “When is it?”

“This Saturday.”

Todoroki thought for a bit. If Yaoyorozu came around 3:30, he’d be able to make it.

“Sure.” The doctor grabbed his mug and swallowed the last drop of Milo, “Who’s going and when’d you become Kaminari’s secretary.”

Bakugou cursed into the phone. “Fcking bitch is having a panic attack about his cake or whatever that sludge he’s baking. Fcking even gave him the recipe and helped him with most of it and he can’t even squeeze icing properly.”

“You? Baking?” Todoroki said incredulously, “Never thought I’d see the day when you’d bake.”

“For your record, I can fcking C O O K.”

“Yea, I definitely know now.”

Todoroki heard a weensy bit of Kaminari’s whining at the back and Bakugou grunted again.

“Bring some peeps if you want, the dolt over there wanna fill up the apartment, though it shouldn’t be that fcking hard since it’s a two by two square.”

Todoroki gave a half-hearted hum. “I’ll think about it. But tell him I’ll be there.”

“K, bye.” And with that Bakugou hung up. Todoroki stuffed the phone back into his pocket. Walking to the bathroom, Todoroki rinsed his mug in the sink. His reflection caught his attention, seeing his Tom Ford suit reminded him of Erase.

Yaoyorozu.

He eyed the ceiling a bit and back to the mirror in front of him. Fixing his collar with a tug, a thought sprang like ripples on water.

He wondered, would it be crazy to invite her to Jirou’s party?

“JIROU, IM GOING TO PLAY THE MOVIE!!” Ashido’s shrill voice startled Yaoyorozu and the latter quickly turned to her friend.

“We have ears you know.”

Ashido gave a small ‘hehe’ and Jirou snarled at her when she appeared behind the couch. “And some of us have REALLY sensitive hearing.”

“Sorry, just making sure you don’t miss anything. I love this movie!”

The three were chilling together in Yaoyorozu’s house with fuzzy pyjamas and slippers. The fleece blanket that Yaoyorozu so adored fell across Ashido’s lap and Jirou plopped a bowl of popcorn overloaded with butter between them.

“Extra extra greasy?” Ashido said as she stuffed a bunch of popcorn in her mouth and Jirou repeated after her.

“Yes, extra extra greasy. I’m scared for all our arteries.”

“Just do 3 laps tomorrow and you’ll burn it all out.”

This was the designer’s usual entertainment, her friends’ constant bickering.

“….or we could ask Dr. Todoroki for some advice.”

At his name, Yaoyorozu coughed out half-chewed kernels, eyes watering. Jirou quickly handed her water, though her hands were shaking from laughing at Yaoyorozu’s immediate reaction.

“Oh, so now we can’t even MENTION his name?” Ashido guffawed, kicking her legs up and down as the movie’s opening song began to fill the air.

Yaoyorozu squinted her eyes. “I’m going to kick you guys out if you keep at it.”

“Ashido started it!”

“No I didn’t! WAIT SHH the movie!”

Jirou tottered her legs on the couch for a bit as Shrek 2 began and stood up, “Wait can you pause, I have to go washroom.”

The pink-haired girl flicked a popcorn at her and licked her fingers before reaching for the remote. “Ugh why didn’t you go earlier. Fine, we’ll wait.”

When they heard Jirou slide the door to a close, Ashido quickly leaned over to the designer who was leisurely skimming through ASOS.

“Ohh! That top’s really cute Yaomomo! But wait I need to tell you something.”

Yaoyorozu reeled over at her friend who was acting suspicious as if she had a secret and put down her phone.

“What is it?” She asked confounded.

“Kaminari and I are planning Jirou’s surprise Birthday, it’s going to be Saturday.”

“Oh sounds fun! Where?”

“It’ll be at his place, can you bring some snacks?”

Yaoyorozu grinned, “Of course I can. Anything else you guys need help with?”

Ashido twirled at lock of hair playfully. “Nope I think we’re all good. Show up at 7, we’ll all hide and wait for Kami to bring her in.“

“I have a client to see right before but I should be there on time.”

Seeing the way her friends’ eyes glistened, Yaoyorozu could tell she knew who ‘the client’ was.

“Oh…come on, bring the doctor.”

“What! I’ve only talked to him twice. That’s absurd. He would think I’m interested in him.”

“Hey, all relationships starts off with friendship of some degree. Fine, bring Shinsou then.”

Yaoyorozu rolled her eyes, “No and no.”

“Aww…come on…we need some hotties in the room, well other than us of course.” Ashido burst out giggling at her own humour, “I did hear that Kaminari’s bringing a bunch of his friends over so it’ll be sooo much fun, I can’t ---“

“WAIT..she’s back!” Yaoyorozu whispered and the two girls quickly retrograded to their previous positions. Jirou walked in, not suspecting a thing.

“So ready for some Shrek?” Ashido asked, reaching out for the glass of lemonade slicked with condensation. It was a good thing Yaoyorozu and her had fast reflexes.

Jirou jumped back onto the couch, “Yup, ya betcha!”

Watching her work so precisely and meticulously, he found himself feeling as though he was intruding. Yaoyorozu was prisoned in focus – perhaps in her own world where nothing mattered except to make her designs come to life.

The doctor was curious, careful eyes admiring how she’d measure every obscure thing in his office. Every angle should direct the audience to a certain highlight, Yaoyorozu had explained. He just nodded as if he understood.

Todoroki made sure to give her enough space so she can do her work.

“Mm, maybe if I put that over here…” The designer muttered to herself, tapping her chin. Forming dialogues in her head while working was a habit of hers.

Todoroki noticed Kendou mindlessly wiping her computer monitor, but the receptionist’s gaze was towards the designer.

“If you keep that up, your monitor’s going to break.”

Kendou snapped out of it and smiled sheepishly.

“It’s after hours, you can go you know.”

“Oh I know,” Kendou said, now directing her gaze at him. She walked closer and whispered, hand cupping her mouth slightly. “I remember her now. She’s gorgeous, I can’t believe she’s so talented as well. Ugh, look at her dress, I want that sense of fashion.”

Todoroki shifted his attention to the designer. Yaoyorozu was donning a tight crew neck black top with an A-line skirt painted with bright patterns. Her hair was up in her usual pony tail though it looked curlier than usual. Large round hoops hung on her ears, glinting gold, while the watch she had on was one with classic black leather straps.

“Hm.” Was all Todoroki said.

Kendou huffed. “Oh you boys don’t know what fashion is.”

The doctor ignored her snarky comment, hands shoved back into his pockets and began to walk over to the woman who was now packing up her materials.

“So, I assume everything’s done?”

Yaoyorozu swiveled around, finding herself staring into gunmetal and cyan. His minty breath too close.

“Um---“She ended up stuttering, taking a step back, “Yes, almost! I’ve got what I need for the most part, I will be coming back quite often however. What’s your schedule? I’d suggest 2 months of closure so by mid-October at the latest?”

“That sounds good.”

The clock on the wall read exactly 5 p.m. and the designer found herself feeling relieved. Plenty of time for her to go back home and freshen up before the party. Kendou was now waving her goodbyes and heading out, leaving the two lost for words at each other’s company.

Todoroki rested a hand on his neck, scratching the area right around the nape and exhaled.

“Are you busy tonight?”

The woman puckered her lip.

“Tonight? I have plans with my friends.”

“…I see.” His chest sank, though keeping his voice light. Nonetheless the woman could sense the disappointment.

“Is there something you wanted to do? If you want to talk about the project, I’d be happy to discuss.”

Todoroki shook his head, the little pieces of white hair hanging right between his brows. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh.”

Things went quiet between them again. The rustle of Yaoyorozu’s purse that squished between her arm was the only distraction before the designer decided to head off.

“Thanks, I’ll see you—“

“Soon.” He finished for her in haste and meekly smiled at his outward response. Yaoyorozu reciprocated the gesture before the phone in her purse began to vibrate.

“Sorry I have to take this.” The woman said, pushing open the door. She added cheerily, “Bye doctor!” With a wink she left, the last sound of her heels’ clicking echoing away.

Though he was slightly disgruntled at his failed attempt to invite her to Jirou’s party, Todoroki’s heart skipped a beat. Not that it was his first time hearing anyone call him doctor. But what was it that made her saying it so….enticing?

#todomomo #todoroki x yaoyorozu #bnha #my fanfic #back with my bullshit

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ncityofangels · 5 years ago

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Shoot Out (Mafia!AU Jooheon x fem!Reader pt.2)

a/n - Sorry this took me so damn long to write, we all know I’m shit at updating properly. Anyway, I don’t really have much to say on this one. Hope y’all enjoy. <3

Part 1 <---

Summary - You meet Jooheon on a whim during a traumatic accident in your life. You don’t know what he does for a living, but you know he’s well off. As things progress you start to doubt where all the money comes from. One night you walk in on him handling mob business and get pulled into a life of crime and treachery. Things are good for a while, you being the Bonnie to his Clyde, but soon you start to question how far would you go for the one you love?

Word Count - 1.8k

Genre - some fluff, mostly angst towards the later chapters, maybe a sprinkle of smut who knows ;)

Warnings - definitely some “vulgar” language.

The pain woke you up. The sharp sting of a wound you barely recalled receiving. You assumed someone had given you painkillers to allow the little bit of rest you had actually gotten. You awoke to a bizarre and unfamiliar landscape. A four poster bed with ivory satin sheets enveloped your body. “What the hell?” you whispered. The last thing you remembered was walking home after work down a dim avenue on your way to your apartment complex. The homeless person. An image of a battered old man asking for money flashed through your brain. That’s when you really felt the stitches holding the gash in your side from continuing to gush blood. “Damn that hurts like a bitch” you whispered to yourself again. You still couldn’t tell where exactly you were, but it was nice enough to have a fully decorated guest room, so it most definitely couldn’t be a hospital. “Stab wounds tend to do that”. You heard a voice from the corner of the room, and realized there was someone standing in the doorway. A tall man with chestnut brown hair, a broad figure and a serious expression joined you in the room, shutting the door behind him. “Who the hell are you? Where am I?” You panic, immediately jumping to the worst possible scenario you could muster. That of course being that you were sold into sex trafficking and were only ‘saved’ so you could service men. This undoubtedly was not the case but you wouldn’t figure that out until later. You could tell your sudden outburst surprised him. “Well….um….I’m Shownu. This is my boss’ house. We found you bleeding on the street...uh….we have a kind of on-site doctor here and this was closer than the hospital so…” the tall man, apparently named Shownu responded. You were still suspicious about the whole situation but you decided to drop it for now, the pain in your side once again returning. You lifted your thin shirt to reveal the large bandage taped to the side of your torso. While you observed your wound, Shownu kept talking. “I was told to tell you that since you’re a guest here you’re invited to dinner tonight. There’s a dress in the closet for you to wear, and the table is set at 6. After that, if you desire, transportation will be arranged to take you back to your apartment.” he finished, proud of himself for properly delivering the message to me. You went to tell him that dinner wouldn’t be necessary and that you wished to go home as soon as possible; however, you didn’t get a chance to reply, as the boy had already escaped the room. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice” you thought to yourself. You gently rose from the bed, making sure you didn’t irritate your laceration, making your way towards the towering wardrobe that was placed in your room. You open the wardrobe to reveal an emerald green lace cocktail dress and white stiletto heels. “You have GOT to be kidding me.” I said to myself. “They do know I literally just got stabbed, right?” I sighed. Obviously this wasn’t something I was going to be able to get out of. I began to carefully undress out of my ‘shady mansion surgeon’-issued clothes and slip into the small piece of fabric provided to me. “This is weird as fuck, but what the hell”.

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Jooheon POV

“I delivered the message, sir.” Shownu said, plopping himself down in one of Jooheon’s office chairs. The superior responded with a nod of his head, nothing more. “If I may ask boss, why exactly are we involving ourselves in this?” Shownu continued. Jooheon paused the ledgers he was working on and glanced up at his employee. “What kind of mob boss would I be if I just let an innocent bystander bleed out inside the boundaries of my empire?” Jooheon joked. In all seriousness, he knew well that she could become a liability. If word got out that there had been a murder within feet of one of his tenants shops, many friends to his ‘business’ could pull out of transactions for fear of their inventory being compromised. Murder was second nature in his line of work, but any news of a non-mafia related crime spike could jeopardize future negotiations. “Speaking of the events of last night, did you take care of the man that caused this?” Jooheon asked. Shownu raised his head, responding “I think it’s safe to say he won’t be a problem anymore”. Jooheon looked satisfied. “Good. Now I want you to do one more thing for me”.

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Y/N POV

Once you were dressed, you finally liberated yourself from the confines of your room. Shownu never told you where to go for dinner so you turned down multiple hallways and ventured down a bunch of stairwells before finally coming to what you thought may be the right place. As you explored, you noticed the beautiful rustic yet modern designs in the house. From the wooden beams extending from the floor to the ceiling, to the cozy furniture included in every room. The design of the house definitely made it feel a lot more like a home, despite the size. Once in the dining room, you sit down in one of the many chairs at the table. The food was surprisingly already served and ready to eat; however, your host had yet to arrive. “Nice of you to invite a guest to dinner and not show up” you whispered to yourself, a little irritated that you got dragged to dinner with this guy and he had the nerve to be late. “Sorry about that, I had some…..business to take care of.” A man, assumedly the host of this dinner and the owner of the house, walked towards the table from a room you had yet to see. Shit, he probably heard you make that comment. He had sleek black hair and an intimidating face, but something about him was attractive. He was wearing a black suit with a green undershirt, coincidentally matching your dress. Everything about him was contradictory. His face was serious, but in some ways very soft. Like his true demeanor was hidden behind a daunting facade. You wished you could stop analyzing every little thing about him but it’s like he had a gravitational pull. “I’m Jooheon” the man said, taking his seat at the head of the table. “I’m…” You went to respond to him but he cut you off. “I know who you are”. You guessed he’s not the most well-mannered person you’ve ever met. “How exactly do you know who I am?” you implored. “We got your purse back” He responded, stuffing his mouth with whatever food was on his plate. Alright then, not a big talker either. You slowly started to eat your food, sensing that you weren’t going to get much out of him right now. At least the alfredo you were eating tasted pretty good. As all food should when it comes from the kitchen of as grand a house as this one. “How’s the wound?” Jooheon asked, restarting whatever ‘conversation’ we had initiated before; however, you were done playing games, you wanted answers. “What made you think you could just bring me to your house and patch me up instead of taking me to the hospital? I’ve never met you before” you stated. Your question was abrupt but he maintained his composure, unshaken by your urgency. “I’m sorry the accommodations I made for you aren’t suitable enough. I remind you that I could have let you die on the street without as much as a lift of a finger, so I would appreciate a little thanks in that regard” He threw back. You were shocked. How was this man already so good at throwing things back in your face. You finished what little was left on your plate and effectively dodged the response you received from your host. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. If it’s not too much to ask I’d like to be taken home now.” You quickly responded. Luckily, he had finished his dinner too and was noticeably irritated with your presence. “I think that can be arranged.” He replied. “Wait by the front door. I’ll call for an escort. I hope next time we can meet on better terms, Y/N” With that final statement, he retreated back to the hallway he originally entered from. “Hopefully I won’t get so lucky” you whispered to yourself, making your way to the entrance to the estate.

Once in the car, you thought of the events of the past 24 hours. First you were mutilated by some random homeless man. That was fun. Then you were taken to this random rich man’s house to get operated on by a currently unknown surgeon. After that you had dinner with this random rich man in his luxurious home. Now you’re finally on your way home. Honestly, this was the most adventure you’d gotten in years, but you just wanted to crawl into your own bed, in your own clothes and go back to your normal life. You arrived at your apartment pretty quickly, thus making you think that you weren’t too far away to begin with. You made a mental observation of that fact and tucked it away in some filing cabinet in your brain. Once you came to a complete stop, you hopped out of the expensive car, thanked the driver and walked up to your door. You already sensed that something was off, but you didn’t realize until you let your eyes drift around the entrance to your house. The first thing you noticed as your eyes moved upward was the brand new, state-of-the-art electronic door lock that was now installed on your door. But that wasn’t all. Security Cameras. All around your complex. Your landlord was cheap as hell so you knew he didn’t buy them. “What the hell is all of this?” you whispered softly, wondering how all these gadgets found their way to your doorstep. The last thing that caught your eye was the bouquet of white roses placed on your ‘Welcome Home’ doormat. You slowly leaned down to pick up the arrangement, carefully not to jerk too much as to bother your bandage. You noticed a familiar label attached to the wrapping around the flowers. They were from one of your favorite floral shops nearby, Lily’s. As you examined the bouquet you noticed a white card dangling from one of the roses. “Let’s see who these are from” you said, delicately opening the card to reveal a short message. “Rest up. We’ll be seeing each other very soon. -J”.

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mariisseething · 6 years ago

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Analyzing Hero Costumes: Girls of Class 1-A

My obsession has spiraled out of control. Let me roast analyze these babes. I’m dumb. I’m tired. I’m gay. Let’s do this.

Warning: I’m a cynical, lazy-ass critic with no consistent taste. Don’t expect a fair analysis.

(This is just for fun, please don’t get mad at me for being an undereducated weeb! I went into writing this with only the knowledge I’ve obtained through watching the show and reading the manga. I don’t know everything about the costumes, and I don’t want to either)!

Ashido Mina (Pinky)

Babe, imma be frank here.

I love her, but—

that shit ugly.

Funcionality: Mina’s quirk (Acid) comes from her hands and feet. If I remember correctly, she has passages in her shoes that her...foot..acid.....can pass through, and her hands are fully exposed. So her costume is “practical”, and works with her quirk.

Design: As I said before, that shit ugly. The body suit has the worst pattern and color combination I’ve ever seen. (Like if Sully from Monster’s Inc. was turned into a cow and hated it). Her tiddies should be popping out any second now, which isn’t great. Her weird armpit vest with it’s stupid fluffy collar is quite reminiscent of Hawks’ jacket, which leads me to believe that their costumes were made by the same designer. (Many of the designers in the BNHA universe put calling-cards in their costumes). Her white mask is pointless, but at least it matches the fluff on her collar. Her boots, though they have a purpose, are ugly as sin. The pale yellow doesn’t match any other piece in the ensemble, and the Dabi-scar colored purple makes me sad. Hate that.

Total Score: 2/10

Her costume does almost nothing to enhance her quirk, and it’s hideous. The only reason it got two points was because of the shoe holes, and the possibility that it’s connected to my boy Hawks.

Seriously, this is some Seasame Street lookin-ass bullshit.

No hate on Mina, she’s lovely, but her taste is atrocious. (see: her bedroom).

Asui Tsuyu (Froppy)

Okay, okay bitch I see you.

I’m here for this.

Funcionality: Tsu’s quirk (Frog) requires a decent amount of flexibility from clothing. Spandex works for that I guess. Normally, I would automatically fail this costume for having goddamn toe “socks”, but for Tsuyu they’re nessecary. Having her individual toes chiseled out helps her grip onto shit when she’s kicking ass. It looks like her gloves are attached to her body suit, which is rad, but I’m not sure what the purpose of that waist belt-thing is. If anything, the chunky pieces of her costume would make it harder for her to swim. I also have no fucking clue what that head piece is. I once thought they were like binoculars or something, but she’s never put them on her face so...they wouldn’t fit....on her face..huh.....I’m so stupid bro.

Design: Lets start with a positive, the color scheme slaps. Everything goes together, and the dark green even matches her hair. The bodysuit has a cool structure, and I can definitely appreciate the slight turtleneck and boot-esq feature; however, the chunky wrist pieces, belt, neck/chest-thing, and head piece confuse me. I guess they’re there for fashion, gutter fashion. Shitty crap face fashion. Ugly butthole fashion. FILTH! I need to calm down holy shit—

Total Score: 6/10

The look honestly only lost points for the random ass statement pieces. Water terrains are Tsuyu’s specialty, and a clunky outfit would certainly slow her down underwater.

The toe shit, turtleneck, thigh-high “boots”, and color scheme are pretty dope though.

(Also, she only has three toes but frogs have four).

(My Hero Academia: Cancelled).

Hagakure Toru (Invisible Girl)

So, here’s the real question.

Is she naked?

Short answer: I dunno.

Funcionality: So she’s invisible, right? A good costume would emphasize that. I can only assume she wears the boots and gloves for comfort and so her allies can see where she is. If she wants to go full invisible, she just has to take them off. At one point, it was confirmed that she was topless during the sports festival, but we’ve had no further updates on her costume. A few people have theorized that her costume is made of her hair (assuming she has hair). We know that this is possible, as Mirio’s costume is made of his hair so he can remain clothed while his quirk is activated. The only issue would be making an outfit out of something you can’t see. If I were Toru, I would choose to fight nude because, I-uh...hmm, I-I can do what I want SHUT UP!

Design: There’s not much to critique here. The shade of blue on her gloves is cute, and the pink stripes don’t make much of an impact. The shoes are just about the most boring thing I’ve ever seen, like why are they beige??? What are they supposed to match? I just—ugh, beige??? What the fuck Horikoshi...smh.

Total Score: 5/10

Since we don’t know if the “hair-costume” thing is canon, I can’t rate it any higher. If that is true, it would be an 7/10. The outfit does its job, but I’m bored and beige sucks.

(Btw I don’t trust her...)

(Sketchy chick right here).

(Sketchy chick with some ugly-ass beige shoes).

Jirou Kyouka (Earphone Jack)

Aww.

She’s cute!

Look at her little face, d’awwwweeeeee!

Funcionality: The lovely Kyouka’s quirk (Earphone Jack), makes absolutely no sense to me. Like, I get that she can hear better and can eavesdrop really well, but how does she...make loud noises??? With the speakers??? Plugging earbuds into a speaker doesn’t make............noise, and the speakers aren’t part of her body. Whatever, back to the analysis. The speakers on her hands and calves amplify sound somehow, and her earlobes are exposed. It’s works.

Design: The speaker boots are basic, but acceptable. She’s got some comfy looking black pants, and a trendy salmon-colored top. Her jacket is iconic, and she’s wearing a choker. (+1,000,000 points for that). The white gloves don’t match shit, but they’re fingerless so I’ll let it slide. Her headphones almost match....meh. I don’t care. (+10 for the face paint).

Total Score: 8/10

Listen, I’d give her a 10 but this costume just isn’t....gimmicky, enough for me? She’s a superhero for fucksake! Now’s the time to dress your goddamn best! The look is practical, and seems to be her taste, I just disagree with her choices. Sue me. I’d either wanna fight in the wackiest most dangerous getup you’ve ever seen, or completely naked. Either way, I’m getting arrested. Jirou needs to get on my fucking level.

Uraraka Ochaco (Uravity)

I don’t know boys,

it seems like she might be...

round.

Fuck sharp angles!

Funcionality: Ochaco’s quirk (Zero Gravity) only requires her hands to work. More specifically, her fingertips. Uh, yeah those are some nude fingertips. *Ahem* moving on. Actually wait, since she often uses her quirk on herself it would be helpful for her to eliminate as much extra weight as possible, so I’m hoping that all of the accessories are hollow. They better be, or I’m gonna start throwing hands with Kohei Horikoshi.

Design: When Ochaco first got her hero costume she was surprised by how tight it was, even saying that it wasn’t supposed to be that tight. Bitch, how could it have been loose? I don’t...fuck it. I like the colors, I like the boots a lot actually, but who cares about that, I wanna talk about her fucking chastity belt. Who she keepin out? (Jesus Christ she’s a child, tone it down Mari). Do you think it’s comfortable to walk around with a chunk of plastic on your crotch?! I don’t know, seriously, is it? Maybe she’s trying to hide something...a hip dip perhaps?! Jk hip dips are stupid, that’s how bones work, don’t be ashamed. Her wrist...spheres... have handles on them, no comment, and whereas I usually LOVE chokers—that one is stupid and I hate it. Curvy little shit.

Total Score: 8/10

I like it overall, but some things are just too strange to overlook. (i.e. the chastity belt, wrist cuff handles, and the ugly choker). This costume doesn’t really scream Uraraka to me either. It’s a bit unoriginal to me.

I just don’t love it.

(Why are her fists clenched? Is she trying to fight? I could snap her like the twig she is and steal her girlfriend).

(Assuming she has one).

Yaoyorozu Momo (Creati)

Oohooohohohoho

hooohohoho

hoooooo mAN do I have some WORDS for this one!

Funcionality: Momo’s quirk (Creation) does require quite a bit of skin to be exposed, but I’m not sure why that skin HAS to be her boobs. She’s got thighs, a stomach, a back, an upper chest, and arms. Why do her Russian nesting dolls have to come out of her tiddies??? Okay, actually, she doesn’t make that many things with her tits. So....why’re they out? This costume definitely lets her quirk run wild, maybe too much.

Design: The red is pretty, and I can tolerate the sandy yellow. Her shoes are unimportant, so let’s just gloss over those. Now, WHAT is that thing? A makeshift, tan colored, plastic tube mini...skirt? I know she has a shelf on her ass that she carries books on, but doesn’t she have a cellphone? Google? Can’t she just remember the molecular make-up of a cannon? (Because she only makes cannons now for some reason). Have we ever even seen her reading those books? Can she read? A large portion of her midsection/chest is exposed up to another one of those weird chest pieces and a neck jacket. Maybe she should cut the neck coat off and glue it to her tiddies.

Total Score: 1/10

Listen, Horikoshi clearly understands what Momo’s costume needs, but he has no idea how to make that. This outfit IS inappropriate, no matter how you look at it. She’s a minor, and I don’t like the idea that she’s running around 75% naked. The only part of this that I like is the shade of red. That’s not good.

I really like Momo, she’s a good character, it’s unfortunate that we have to sexualize her so much. Can’t girls just be smart without also being eye candy for creepy 30 year old weebs?

——————

That’s it for this analysis. I plan on posting more stuff like this since I enjoy writing it so much! You should totally follow me so you don’t miss my future ramblings! 💖

Unless you hated it.

I wouldn’t blame you.

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uzumaki-rebellion · 6 years ago

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“Wet Sugar” [Part 4 of 30]

Summary: Erik struggles with his Wakanda goals and the absence of Yani, while she, in turn, copes with the lack of support from her job and her daughter’s father...

Mature audience only. NSFW.

Looks like this series is going to be longer than 6 parts. Lol, I knew it, just like “Say Less”, I think I can wrap it up in 6, but the characters said “Nope.” I’ll say 9 now, and see where I can tie things up in a neat bow. Which is never really neat with Erik tbh.

Back to the next update....

"But baby Don't get it twisted You was just another nigga on the hit list Tryna fix your inner issues with a bad bitch Didn't they tell you that I was a savage Fuck your white horse and a carriage Bet you never could imagine Never told you you could have it

You needed me Ooh You needed me To feel a little more, and give a little less Know you hate to confess But baby ooh, you needed me…"

Rihanna- "Needed Me"

Yani didn't arrive at the compound Friday morning.

Erik hung around the pool for most of the day waiting to see if she would show up. He didn't pester Leona about where she was, but every time he heard footsteps coming down the walkway, or voices below the pool, he was up and about looking for any signs of her.

Nothing.

He replayed his contact with her the day before.

He asked for permission to touch her breasts. She consented verbally. The sexual release he received from playing with her nipples, watching those peaks drip with milk gave him the best orgasm he had ever experienced since…shit…since he had been with Disǎ. And that was almost two years ago. His only regret was that he didn't bend down and squeeze the warm liquid into his mouth, swirl the milk on his tongue, see what it tasted like.

Watching her fingers move frantically inside her panties had him curious about what she tasted like down there too. Her eyelids were half slits when he watched her orgasm ripple across her face. And fuck…the sound she made when she was cumming. It made his legs wobble.

The warmth from her lips when he pressed his mouth into hers brought into sharp focus the feelings of displacement in his life. Yes, he was a nomad, going from job to job in the most dangerous regions of the world, but he was used to that, accustomed to living out of duffle bags and airport lounges, his brain configured to collecting data about Wakanda and T'Chaka and compartmentalizing his hierarchy of needs on the most basic survival level. Erik understood and accepted what needed to be done. His purpose. And it was always about moving, moving, moving…

But that kiss, as fleeting as it was…it made him think of being still.

He had never had that experience before.

Even with his ex Disǎ and the deep yearning love he had, and still had for her, he knew that he was going to be in perpetual motion until he was sitting on the throne of Wakanda. Nothing got in the way of that.

Yani was just some random woman on a little rock in the middle of the sea. He had gone through many women over the years in various parts of the world. Black women just as fine if not finer than this one island girl cleaning and cooking for some roughnecks.

What was it about her that had him jumping up every few minutes thinking she was about to appear? Had him making extra excursions up to the front house with excuses that he was hungry or thirsty or had a question about the compound. Had him up all night fantasizing about sucking on her tits while he fucked her nice and slow. Some nine-month-old baby's mother, her pussy probably still recuperating from squeezing out that cute chubby infant…why the hell was he going online looking up info on vaginal sex after childbirth? The hell?

Erik ran his hands over his hair and stood up from the lounge chair for maybe the twentieth time just to make another trek up to the front house. He'd have to ask Leona about her niece in a round-about way before he went back into his room to jack off thinking about heavy tits spurting milk in his mouth. He wanted to leave teeth marks on her areola, deep imprints of his gold slugs…mark her in some kind of way.

"Fuck," he muttered stomping up the steps that took him to Leona.

She was cleaning up in the dining room after making a delicious lobster bisque with grilled tilapia for lunch. He wasn't fond of tilapia, it always tasted dirty to him, but she prepared it with enough seasoning that made it palatable.

"Hello again," she said.

The smile on her lips matched the smile in her eyes, and Erik thought for a moment that she was on to him. He worried that overt interest in Yani would make Leona opt to keep her from working there while he was present. Erik was a killer. She could sense that he was more than just a polite young man showing manners to an elder. He was part of Klaue's team, and he knew that she was also aware of how men like him could turn on a dime.

"My associate Tahir is flying in tomorrow. I'm thinking of taking him back to that club I told you about. Rush?"

"I remember."

"You said your nephew was performing there? What does he do? Sing?"

"He raps. Very good too. A lot of my nieces and nephews do. None as good as Kendall though."

"What day is he performing?"

"Saturday night. I don't know what time he goes on stage, but Yani said it was Saturday. They're all excited about seeing him. It's his first real show."

Yani would be there. Bet.

"Are you going to see him? I can take you with me and Tahir if you don't have a ride—"

"Oh no, that's for you young people. I will be home in my apartment watching my shows. Yani has been trying to get me to go, but….no…"

"I'll record his performance on my phone for you."

"That would be nice, Mr. Killmonger."

He wanted to tell Leona his name, but he wanted to keep some distance too. For now, he only wanted Yani to know it.

He stood watching her for what seemed like an unnecessary amount of time. He had the info he needed, but watching her move about the room reminded him of being with his Nana.

"Can I help you clean or anything?"

She stopped and looked at him, a questioning expression on her face.

"There's not much going on today, pretty much a free day for me," he said.

"You nuh go to the beach?"

"Went twice already. This morning and before lunch," he said.

"I'm surprised you nuh go to St. John like the others," she said changing out placemats for the dining table.

"I'm going on Sunday."

"You like being by yourself, Mr. Killmonger?"

"Most times, yes."

"Things 'round here are pretty much done—"

"You need any help prepping dinner?"

"Oh, no. Dinner will be easy."

"How so?"

"Mr. Klaue is taking you all out to eat tonight. I get a little break. In fact, I am going to watch a little tv now and kick up my feet. Thank you for offering help. It was a kind gesture."

Erik nodded and Leona's eyes regarded him with interest.

"Would you like to watch tv with me?"

He hoped he didn't sound too eager when he nodded his head with enthusiasm.

"Well then, come along," she said.

Erik followed her to the apartment under the house. It was small, quaint, and very neat. The type of neat Erik appreciated. Attached to the entrance of the apartment was a shed that contained the washer and dryer for laundry.

Looking around the apartment living room Erik admired all the photos of family Leona had up. Most of the walls were covered with framed pictures. He spotted several with Yani, many of them when she was younger and had hair full of braids with barrettes and big round bubblegum ties on the ends. Most of her pictures had some incarnation of her squinting at the camera, or holding a hand up to block the sun from her eyes.

She was a thin wiry girl in her youth, but Erik could tell by the shape of older female relatives in many pictures that she was predestined to have hips and an ass to make men weep. That was the amusing thing he found about the island folk. The women would be round and luscious and the men would be lean and angular. There were photos of Leona when she was younger, and Erik had to admit that the women in this family were stellar to gaze upon. Sydette's photos were front and center, and she appeared to be the focal point for the more recent photos of family gatherings.

"Sit, sit…"

Leona went into her kitchen and brought out a bowl of grapes and a bowl of potato chips.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you, I'm good right now."

They sat on the couch and watched Jeopardy and then Wheel of Fortune before she turned to world news. He was leaning back on the couch comfortably, stuffing grapes into his mouth and listening to Leona critique the state of affairs in the U.S. But then his jowls, the part of Erik's jaw-line that Tahir said made him look like a pitbull sometimes, grew tight when he saw King T'Chaka being greeted by the Queen of England. And by his side wearing a crisp designer suit was his son, a solemn-faced Prince T'Challa.

"Oh, that young man is handsome. All my nieces think he is so cute."

Erik grunted and Leona chuckled. He felt his blood pressure rise and he shifted his body forward to study their faces. King T'Chaka was all smiles as the press took photos of them inside Buckingham Palace. T'Challa's eyes looked pampered and bored.

Erik clasped his hands together. If he were alone, he would probably cuss up a storm or hit something. But he concentrated on being calm in Leona's presence. He could taste his anger on his tongue, a gelatinous cold thing that dampened his mood.

"I gotta go," he said bolting up from his seat.

"Okay, Mr. Killmonger," Leona said.

Her wary eyes watched him, the shift in the tone of voice and facial expression on him much too sudden.

Erik left a cold trail behind him when he exited the apartment. His feet felt unsteady as he walked the path that led to the cove and Yani's beach. He passed by Jerome sunbathing on a wide stone, the creature's eyes closed tight, it's tail flicking a bit.

Undressing and tossing his clothes on the sand, Erik ran into the warm waters and dived under a lazy wave. When his head broke the surface again, he let out a cry of rage that made the cords on his neck bulge. He punched at the water, raised his head to the serene azure sky and released a hot piercing scream that stripped his throat raw. The soft sand under his feet gave way and he lost his balance, falling backward, his arms flailing as he tried to prevent seawater from flooding his nostrils.

Gasping for air, he let out a few more pained shrieks until tears welled up and fell from his eyes.

If he didn't do something about the Udaku family soon, he knew he would burn up, self-immolate, a rabid spontaneous human combustion that would leave his charred remains still clenching fists and screaming to the sky.

Erik fell forward and a new wave lifted his prone body and carried him toward shallow waters. He rolled over onto his back and let the sea carry him while allowing the sun's rays to kiss his skin. Once a striking sienna, time on the island had enhanced his melanin to a sumptuous chestnut color, and he could feel the UV rays burning and darkening his skin even more.

Closing his eyes, Erik focused on letting the anger and frustration and hurt to rush over and away from him. It wouldn't disappear completely, but he could usher it into a corner for now.

His body rocked by gentle untroubled waves, Erik spread out his arms and floated.

Yani.

His thoughts went to her and how she looked when she swam in these same waters. Calm. Secure. At peace.

A calm came over him.

It started from the crown of his forehead and trickled down to his throat where it melted into his belly, unclenching the muscles there before reaching his toes.

He heard a splash.

Jerking up from his back, his eyes scanned the water. Was she here?

A small sea bird swooped over his head and Erik watched it dive into the water for fish.

He couldn't hide his disappointment. The need to see her clawing at him. Did she regret what she allowed him to do to her? Was she embarrassed? Did he cross the line by masturbating on her? So much of his semen had painted her as if she were a fine art canvass. Did it disgust her? Was it the sight of her breastmilk cascading down her stiff peaks and all over his hand and not in her child's mouth that drove her away? Did he waste sustenance meant for her child's growth and she felt ashamed about that? Regretful?

Her lips.

He wanted them again.

Wanted to hear her sighs of release, hear the sound of her fingers in wet spaces between her legs.

His eyes watched the liquid warmth create tranquility around his body.

He conjured a mirage of Yani, the way she was naked and pure when he caught her alone in the open water. Her legs so smooth and vivid and brown as she fell away from him, thighs wide open and giving him a glimpse of the treasure there.

He felt the familiar rush of blood to his center.

His erection bobbed in the water, the weight of it making his yearning for her worse.

"Fuck!"

He was wound up once more, her not being there agitating him and making his body tight again.

The fingers of his right hand slid down his length and encircled his wide glans. He squeezed then twisted his frenulum, his left hand dropping down to fondle his sack. A barrage of images hit him, all of Yani with his hands on her, moving her into various positions. His breathing became more pronounced and he found himself panting as he stroked himself, the heat of his stiffness making his fingers sweat. Pea-sized beads of pre-cum laced his tip and he swirled it around the head and dragged the natural lubricant down his length. He let his head drop back, his locs covering his eyes, the sun beating down on him as he rutted between his fingers.

He felt his glutes flexing, his heels digging into the sand, his toes spreading as he fisted himself faster.

"Oh shit…this bitch…" he gasped, his eyes only seeing Yani's lips and the back of her neck, the spread of her hips…fuck even watching her ass cheeks move while she wore baggy track pants and sweats with an oversized t-shirt had his toes tucking sand underneath his feet now. He remembered the way her eyes shined when he told her he would make her call him Daddy and then her nipples looked like they were crying through her shirt…just like they did when he had his beard pressed near her face and his breath was in her ear talking about Jerome. She had run away. She had also run away when he first saw her on this beach when he had put on his clothes while watching her with her eyes closed to stay modest around him, when he told her he would check on the iguana to give her privacy…

She ran away. She ran away each time her milk…

Wait.

Was he causing her to do that? Secrete fluid…?

The harsh groan that left his mouth superseded the ejaculation that had his seed shooting out into the ocean. He watched his semen hit the water and float for a bit before sinking and the rest washing away with the bigger waves rolling in. He sunk down to his knees trying to catch his breath while the water rinsed his body. Even with that intense release, he wanted more.

And she wasn't there.

He needed her there. He needed to whisper in her ear. Needed to touch her breasts again. Needed to allow his hands to fall down the small of her back and pull her in closer to him. Needed her big brown eyes to look up into his eyes again.

"Yah get too comfortable, Killmonger."

That's what she told him before he made them titties pump.

Nah. He hadn't even begun to get comfortable with her.

###

It was the last hermit crab race of the day.

Yani spent two three-hour-long tours hiking tourists around and exploring Cas Cay the small deserted island they stood on. She gave the Eco Tour spiel about the tidal pools, volcanic cliffs, and the geological blowhole they observed before doing the crab races. The only thing they had left to do was spend time snorkeling in the coral-fringed mangrove nursery. She stood among the red mangrove trees with fifteen tourists wearing beachwear. Their kayaks were tied together and waiting for the last crab to clear the finish line. She was tired and feeling bloated from wolfing down a bacon sandwich when no one was paying attention to her as they all disembarked from the kayaks.

Checking her waterproof watch, she hustled the group to gather their snorkeling gear.

Back in her water element, Yani led the people to safe places to snorkel and kept watch for people who wandered off. She tread water with her snorkel gear resting on her forehead. One of the tourists, a red-faced man from Belgium who was part of a Princess Cruise line kept lingering near her. Yani could tell he was going underwater near her to look at her ass and chest. She was wearing basic board shorts, but her backside was a bit extra. Her tankini top had her tits smashed together and showing some cleavage, and every time she turned around the man was at arms- length distance, his underwater face aimed toward her. Perhaps if she were taller and her physique stretched out a bit, her ass and breasts wouldn't look so prominent. But she was just a tiny bit above average height and came from a family of short round curvy women. Most of her baby weight had dropped, but her Aunt Leona kept her fed well with the rich foods from Klaue's compound, so she was going to be hefting around extra for a minute.

"Sir, please respect my personal space," she told him when he came up to clear his googles of condensation. Her fingers twirled the cowrie shell choker that hung around her neck.

"Excuse me?" the man said, looking shocked that she said that to him out loud where others could hear.

"You are swimming too close to me."

The man's wife overheard her and came splashing over. Her pasty face blocking the sun from Yani's eyes.

"What's going on?" she said.

"I was telling him not to swim so close to me—"

"I was not swimming close to you. I swam past you—"

"Sir, I won't argue with you. I am simply asking you to—"

"Yani, what's happening?"

Ugh. Patrick, the Eco Tours assistant manager.

"This man has been looking at me underwater and I don't like it."

Patrick, as always, went into tourist damage control, ignoring her issue. His fake plastic smile attempting to smooth the tussled tourist feathers.

"I'm sorry for this," Patrick said to the tourist.

"Why are you sorry? I just asked him to stop—"

"Yani, it's time to start heading back. How about rounding up the others, please? Thank you."

"But this man—"

"Yani, do your job—"

"I am doing my job—"

"I really don't like her attitude or her accusations," the wife said.

"Your man was looking at my ass—"

Patrick gave her a look, his smile a frozen grimace. "I did not!" the man said, his accent thick and flustered once he saw the other tourists gathering around them.

"Yes, you were! My ass and my chest!"

Glancing around, Yani could feel eyes on her. Many sympathetic, but no one spoke up for her. Now she was beginning to feel like the odd man out. She took a deep breath. She needed this job. The hours were flexible and the pay was pretty good by island standards. Where else could she get paid to swim and play in the water? She decided to swallow her pride.

"You were swimming too close, that's all."

She walked away with her snorkeling gear in her hand and placed them in the lead kayak, the one she used to guide them all to the cay. Paddling back, she could hear the husband and wife barking at one another in French. Yani was happy to be rid of them as she collected gear to be sanitized for the next group of tourists.

When she was finished packing away all the gear and cleaning up the kayak launch area, Patrick called her into his office.

"I gave that couple a refund," Patrick said.

He sat behind the cash register and scrolled his cell while talking to her. Yani shrugged. One hundred and sixty dollars taken from the company.

"You used to be an awesome employee—"

"I still am. I get the best surveys, and I get the biggest tips—"

"Yeah…but lately, you've been moody and a little difficult—"

"How? When? Who has complained about me? I'm your best—"

"Not so much anymore—"

"You're a liar—"

"And you're fired. I just received the okay from Heather.'

"Did you tell her what that guy did?"

"I didn't see anything and neither did anyone else. You overreacted."

"Give me my money!"

Yani held out her hand.

"Heather has to cut you your final check—"

"No, you fire me on the spot, you give me my money on the spot—"

"I can't…"

Yani grabbed her phone from her work cubbyhole and dialed.

"Heather, if you fire me then you pay me right now. I swear to God I will bring my cousins back here if you don't tell Patrick to pay me. I'm going to file a complaint with the Better Business Bureau too. Or maybe I sue you. One of your customers made me uncomfortable and I only told him to stop…what? Yes, he's right here….do that then."

Yani hung up and the office phone rang. Patrick picked it up.

"Eco Tours…yeah, Heather…yeah…I didn't see anything, she just accused the guy. Okay…alright."

Patrick hung up. The second shift staff were filing in and some watched the expression on Yani's face as she held her hand out.

"Money, now!"

Patrick punched in a code on the register and it opened. He counted out two-hundred dollars in cash. All twenty-dollar bills. He handed it to Yani. She snatched it and stuffed it down her tankini. She stomped out of the office cursing under her breath. Kendall was waiting for her, his old Yamaha V-Star motorcycle spit-shined and propped up by its kickstand. He handed Yani his extra helmet.

"What's wrong with your face?"

"I got fired."

"What? Why?"

"Some dirty old man kept looking at my bumper and my tits. But they said I have a bad attitude. Take me home to my baby before I fight everyone in there."

Her cell rang.

"What Heather? No, it's not right. Patrick doesn't respect me or my work. You know I work hard. I make people return here. Two years Heather…how can you tell him to fire me and you don't have all the facts?"

Yani could see Kendall's face getting stressed listening to her. She patted his arm.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Heather. Yes, I have my money. Okay. Bye."

She thrust her phone into her tankini top right on top of her money.

"Boss Lady?" Kendall said.

"She wants to talk about what happened today. Gave me my job back. Scared I'll sue. All they had to do was believe me the first time and back me up. But them worried about foreign white people being unhappy. Kiss their asses and leave mine hanging."

She sucked her teeth and climbed onto the back of Kendall's bike.

The ride home to Red Hook was congested with cars as people made their way to popular tourist sites. Kendall weaved in and out of lanes and Yani enjoyed the sun warming her back and drying her work clothes. Resting her helmet on Kendall's shoulder as they waited at a slow traffic light, Yani felt herself beginning to get excited for Saturday night.

Eighteen months.

That was how long she had not gone out with friends. The moment she was pregnant, Chez had her locked down at home. When her parents made the decision for her not to stay with them, she still was pressured by Chez to stay indoors when she moved in with Leona. No lunch dates with her girlfriends. Family gatherings with her extended family lasted twenty minutes and then Chez was hustling her away. Even shopping for baby things was frowned upon.

He didn't want her out in public, didn't want her around people who could influence her decision to stay with him or not. When she stood up for herself, he bullied her with verbal abuse. He knew not to lay a hand on her because her family would slice his balls off, but Chez was a master of psychological warfare. Telling her she was fat and ugly and that nobody would want her if she left him. Called her lazy when she wanted to sleep because Sydette was a big baby while she was inside Yani's belly. All of this happened in the later stages of her pregnancy. In the beginning, he was sugary sweet to her, begging her not to abort when she had doubts about having a child with him, promising to be the best father ever.

But when her belly got big, he started in on her. By then it was too late. By then she knew he didn't really want to be a father but her controller. When she became disenchanted with him, the war for her self-esteem began. He wanted to keep her down. Only because he didn't want anyone else to have her when she was so openly done with him.

Chez slept around and then went after a woman that sniffed him out when he first had his record contract.

Ursula.

She was nothing like Yani at all. Ursula's family had a little money, some connections…the right skin tone, the right educational background. Chez may have thought Ursula was a step up for him, but he was most definitely a step down for Ursula by the way her family reacted to him. Their friends used to tease Chez and call him the Dark Gable of the island. Tall and lean, Chez had gorgeous skin that was like midnight silk and a smile that looked like diamonds lived in his mouth. Yani's dream boyfriend. God, she loved him so. Loved him with all the naïve stupidity that young girls had when first love is acute, visceral…painful in its honesty because they have nothing to compare it to. She let him use her body as much as he wanted because that was her man, and her man could have anything he wanted at any time. If he called her late at night and said come over now, she was hopping on that dick quick-quick, even eating his ass if he wanted, which he loved.

To walk into a club or a house party with him was the epitome of being a celebrity in their tiny world. Chez had that "it" factor that made people into stars, and that was the fantasy made false when he became popular. It started with Chez doing a few bars here and there on songs by other up-and-coming artist's mixtapes. Then there was the indie single he put out that had Yani singing the hook for him. She wore revealing clothes for him onstage, simulated fellatio on him at performances…anything to help him succeed. He told her constantly that money was on the way and she could go to school on his dime. They were on their way. When the contract came through and they took their first trip to Florida, Yani's parents fell for the pipedream too. Once they allowed her to take a gap year and saw how good Chez was to her, they loosened their grip on their relationship.

But then Sydette was conceived.

Next came the rumors of the girl with the long loose curls and rich background hanging with Chez's entourage when Yani wasn't around. Rumors of Chez texting the same girl late at night to come jump on his dick. Then the non-rumor of Chez running behind some pregnant girl buying new baby clothes when Yani was laid up with stitches inside her torn and still bleeding vagina as she tried getting Sydette to latch onto her nipple and suck. The non-rumor of some girl driving around the island in Chez's car with a baby girl that looked exactly like Chez, but with hazel eyes and skin the color of the sand Yani stuck her toes in on Klaue's private beach.

Lookie.

"You quiet, Yani," Kendall said, trying to sneak his motorcycle past a hotel delivery truck.

"Just thinking about you performing tomorrow. And me looking cute."

"You know Chez will come."

"I know. I don't care."

"Does Zachary have to come?"

"I'm tired of people asking me that. Chez nuh own me. He can't control who I see. I like Zachary. He is good to me and Sydette. Do you know how hard it is to find and date a man when you have a pickney hanging off your tit? I deserve to have fun with a boyfriend."

"Oh, he's your boyfriend now?"

"Working on it. We are exclusive now. Moving slow and easy. Still dating, not a couple-couple yet, but we agreed to see only each other,"

The words came out and Yani felt the whispery ghost of guilt when she thought of what Erik had done. What she had allowed.

He was dangerous.

Scary.

Persuasive without saying a word.

What if he wanted to do that again and she didn't?

All the men at the compound carried firearms. He could put a gun to her head and force her if he really wanted to. Catch her walking down to the beach alone…

She shook her head, bumping her helmet into Kendall. "Easy back there," he said.

Traffic began to pick up a bit once they passed the docks.

Twyla was standing out on the apartment balcony with Sydette when Kendall pulled his bike in to park.

"Look. It's Mommy!" Twyla said helping Sydette wave down to Yani.

"Hi, Sweet Pea!" Yani called up, and she could see her daughter’s chubby legs kicking at the sound of her voice.

With her daughter in her arms, Yani smothered her with kisses, pleased to know she had the next two days to herself. Monday would be interesting only because the new men would be arriving at the compound, and she was curious to see who would be joining the wild bunch already there.

"She ate already," Twyla said tickling Sydette's barefoot.

"Why you have my baby in only a diaper? People think I can't afford clothes for her."

"Too hot for clothes, huh Sydette? Too hot to be wearing all that extra material," Twyla said. She reached out and touched Yani's hair. "You want me to touch up this color? Your roots are coming out."

"Should I change the color? I saw this platinum shade that would look so good on me."

"You don't want something darker?"

"I look good with light hair. Makes mi skin look like brown sugar. Cuz you know girls, girls dem sugah…"

"…the girls dem need this nigga, yah!" Twyla finished by winding her hips and giggling.

Sydette stared at them both then grabbed for Yani's cowrie shell necklace.

"Zachary keeps calling. You give him some already?" Twyla said.

Yani slapped Twyla's arm.

"We are courting still."

Twyla rolled her eyes

"Twist my locs?"

"No. I just got home. I'm tired. My hands are tired—"

"You want blonde hair again?"

Yani frowned.

"Let me rest for at least an hour."

"I'll give you two. I have to wash my hair first."

Entering the apartment, Yani was met by another cousin, Dex, who sat in front of the TV eating cereal.

"Yani!" Dex shouted.

"You still giving Twyla and Kendall a ride tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'm bringing Boogie and Donald too. Cee Cee is bringing Dulan and Sonya."

Yani looked at Kendall.

"See? You thought your family was going to be too busy and all your favorite cousins are coming."

Kendall beamed and poured himself a bowl of cereal.

"Auntie coming home today?" Dex asked.

"Tomorrow night," she said.

Dex clapped his hands.

"Just make sure you clean up this place before she gets here."

A two-bedroom apartment and a sleeper-couch housed a baby and five adults. Everyone worked and everyone contributed to the household. Leona worked six days a week on the compound when Klaue was around, and less than two times a week when he was gone. Her nieces and nephews covered her rent for the place in exchange for staying there while she was away.

Dex was happy because he would be able to sleep in a bed for one more night before returning to the couch with Kendall.

"What you cook?" Yani said sitting on the couch rocking Sydette in her arms.

"Got take-out," Dex said stretching his arm and reaching for Sydette's foot.

"Beef Patties?"

"Burger King."

Yani rolled her eyes.

"You don't have to eat it."

"I won't," she said popping Dex in his head.

"Stop that," Dex said.

Sydette reached out and grabbed Dex's hair, her fingers slipping through his matted curls.

"Ow…girl…"

He unhooked Sydette's fingers from his scalp.

Kendall dropped down on the couch next to Yani.

"She's bringing Zachary," Kendall said.

Dex glanced over at Kendall and then Yani.

"Yani…" Dex whined.

"I don't care what you say," she said lifting Sydette up and checking her diaper.

"This is why we end up having drama—"

"Won't be no drama—"

"You know how Chez is—"

"And? He laid up with that hoe and another baby. Fuck I care? I'm there to support my family. Zachary is taking me out to dinner and then we are coming to the club. This is a special night for we and I won't listen to that man's name being uttered in my ear."

Her tone of voice made it final.

"Who is watching Sydette?" Kendall asked.

"Anika."

Yani's youngest sister agreed to watch her baby mainly so she could have her little boyfriend hang out with her at Leona's apartment. Ever since Yani's baby mishap, her younger siblings had been under a strict regime. No boys or men allowed in the house. So they had to sneak. Yani wasn't worried about her sixteen-year-old sister though, Leona would be there to keep an eye on them. Anika was still at the holding hands stage with boys, and the young man she was smitten with was a cornball who loved Anika because she loved anime like Yani, and played RPG games like a pro. Love at first online game.

Yani rubbed Sydette's back. Her daughter was resting against her neck and falling asleep. She could smell the fresh clean smell of baby shampoo in her child's hair, and the deep comfortable breathing she had when she was in her mommy's arms.

Yani reached into her tankini and pulled out her cell and her money. She shoved the cash in Dex's face.

"Take this for the house phone and light bill and put the rest on Auntie's cell phone bill," she said.

"I already covered all that, you keep this for school and Sydette," Dex said folding the bills back up and putting it into her hand.

"You sure?"

"I was able to get extra hours at the Job, so I'm good. They didn't hire too many seasonal workers this quarter."

Yani leaned over and kissed her cousin on the forehead. Every little bit helped. She could apply some of that cash for taking her TEAS test, the first step in trying to get into nursing school on the island. The aptitude test would assess if she had the skills to qualify as a nurse, and the administrative fee was eighty dollars. The rest of the money she would use to get Sydette diapers and some new baby bottles since she broke two of them transferring them home the other day. Any leftover money was going towards some new sneakers. The rubber on the back of her Nike kicks were peeling and crazy glue wasn't helping to save them anymore.

"Can you watch her while I shower?"

Dex took the sleeping baby in his arms and Yani walked into her bedroom and grabbed clean clothes and underwear.

Sleep.

She wanted a long uninterrupted sleep and a plate of beef patties with melted cheese. And some strawberry ice cream with rainbow sprinkles.

Cool water woke up her skin, and she quickly cleaned her body. Rinsing off, her fingers trailed over her areolas, gently skimmed the tips of her breasts as Erik's face came to mind. All day he had been flitting in and out of her thoughts. How would she face him on Monday? It would be difficult to pretend that nothing happened because she couldn't trust her own body around him anymore. She had kissed him, so how could she serve breakfast or lunch, or even clean the pool properly if she would have to look at his lips and not think about them being on hers? Why didn't she say no when he asked to touch her? It would've been so easy to walk away and just deal with her breasts, leave the compound and just ignore him for the rest of his stay.

Her Aunt would catch on too because Leona caught every subtle look, word, or action in that place. She had to. These were bad men who pretended not to be bad, who often spoke in code around them. Auntie would be very cautious and her eyes would be wide open. Watching for anything to be off or strange. Yani knew with absolute certainty that they were really bad men when Leona had her help clean Klaue's personal house and she showed Yani a secret escape passage that Klaue revealed to her in case anything ever happened on the compound. Leona was never to reveal this passageway to anyone who came there. Everyone except for Yani.

The compound was usually pleasant and nothing terrible had ever happened. Only the occasional hurricane threats brought any worry. When Klaue was gone overseas or back in his home country, the compound was paradise and the energy felt lighter to work in. She would swim in the pool, sunbathe, or read books on the patio and pretend to be a spoiled rich girl.

She found it greedy of rich white people like Klaue to own so much property and hardly ever be there to use it when her own family would kill for the space to live on their own island. Three houses sat empty eighty percent of the time simply because some foreigner had money to waste. How nice it would be to let her daughter crawl around on the private beach, or float on a little raft with a view of her own sea? Maybe one day run around through beautiful plants and trees with Jerome? Lay on a big soft bed like the one Erik had in his room all the time.

Her fingers played with her nipples until they were stiff. She turned off the water and stood naked, feeling the pleasure of her own touches. Her fingers on her right hand dropped down to separate the folds of her prominent inner labia. She manipulated the slippery skin, inserting the middle and ring finger of her right hand inside her vagina. She proceeded to thrust in and out as she pictured Erik's hand working his erection, the slit on his tip dripping…

Yani grabbed the detachable shower nozzle and switched the mode to pulse and placed it over her throbbing clit. She had to hurry, wasting water was a no-no. Gently sliding the hood of her clit back and letting the water splash on her perfect pink spot almost brought her to delicious completion until a knock on the bathroom door interrupted her. "You almost done in there?"

Kendall's voice broke the serenity of her self-pleasuring. She removed her fingers and rinsed off completely before shutting off the water. She didn't bother to dry off, just threw on clean panties and a sky-blue cotton bathrobe. She ran a roller of deodorant under her armpits then opened the bathroom door.

"All yours," she said.

She went into the bedroom she shared with Twyla to find some shorts and a top.

"Yani!"

Dex called out to her from the living room.

"You need something?" she asked, thinking Sydette was fretting because she wanted her.

Dex was standing at the open front door.

"Where's Sydette?" she asked.

Dex nodded his head outside the apartment entrance.

Yani padded over to find Chez standing outside holding Sydette in his arms. She reached for her baby. Chez took a step back from her hands.

"She's fine. I'm her father, calm yourself," Chez said.

Her daughter's eyes stared at Chez like he was a stranger with bad energy. Her little face vacillated between pre-tears and fretting. Soft little grunts of air escaped her lips.

Hair twisted into tiny peppercorn sized locs around his scalp, and a new gold-chained necklace hanging from his neck, Chez stared at her bathrobe, his eyes focusing on her breasts.

"You with someone?"

"I just got out of the shower. What do you want?" her voice was rushed, her eyes focused on Sydette. He made her nervous holding her.

He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. She took it and counted it. Fifty dollars.

"That's it?" she asked. He owed her way more than that.

"You know I have other responsibilities—"

"You are two months behind, Chez—"

"When I get more, I'll give you more. You are working and making enough money—"

"I work three fucking jobs! If you gave me what we needed, what we agreed on, then I could quit one of them and be with our baby more since you don't want to spend time with her—"

"I'm here aren't I? I'm holding her now, right?"

"It would help me if you could keep her sometimes—"

A car horn honked.

Chez looked behind him.

"Stop honking the goddamn horn!"

His raised voice startled Sydette and she started crying, her arms reaching for Yani.

"Stop crying," Chez said, his arm pulling Sydette away from Yani.

"Give me my baby," Yani said. She tried to keep her face calm. The car horn honked again.

"Stop pressing on the fucking horn, Ursula!"

The yell from Chez's voice made Sydette wail. Yani grabbed her child and yanked her away from Chez.

"You brought your bitch to my house?"

"Watch your tongue—"

Yani stepped around Chez to get a good look at Ursula sitting in the passenger seat of Chez's car. The apartment was on the second floor of a two-story building.

"You can afford to pay what? Five hundred dollars a month for that car, but you come bring me fifty dollars? How do I stretch this out for a month for your baby?"

Yani cradled Sydette's head against her neck. Calm gurgles came from her daughter's mouth now that she was out of Chez's arms.

"I'm doing the best I can, Yani."

"So am I. But I'm tired. Our baby deserves better. I deserve better. It's not right how you treat us—"

"Chez, let's go!"

Ursula stepped out from the passenger side of the silver sporty Honda. She held Chez's other daughter in her arms.

"Your woman is calling you," Yani said.

"When I get some more cash I'll bring it to you."

Yani reached out and pulled on the new gold necklace draped on his neck.

"How much this set you back, huh? Give it to me so I can pawn it."

Chez pulled her hand off of him. He leaned over and kissed Sydette on the cheek. He pulled on Yani's robe at the waist and kissed her on her cheek too.

"I have some money coming in soon. I'll be able to pay back what I owe you and then some. Okay?"

Yani stepped back from him.

"Chez!" Ursula's voice was incessant, "we need to go!"

"Stop yelling in front of my home!" Yani shrieked down to her.

Chez herded her back into the doorway of the apartment.

"Why did you bring her with you? You always try to hurt me, rub my nose in your trash," she said.

"She's not your issue. I'm here for the baby. I'll see you soon."

He rubbed the top of Sydette's head and bounded down the walkway to hit the stairs.

Ursula had a smug look on her face as Chez came back to her.

"Get your butt in the car," Chez said slamming his driver's side door shut.

When they were gone, Yani stood on the balcony trying to keep it together.

"Yani?"

Twyla came out to be with her.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. He just…" She held up the money.

"Fuck them," Twyla said.

"What did I ever see in him?"

"Don't drag yourself. You were young and in love. Just like many people. He fucked it up by being a jerk. That's not your fault."

Yani held Sydette close to her heart.

No matter what Twyla said, Yani would always feel like loving him was her fault. Her fault for choosing him willingly.

And now her baby had to suffer.

###

Zachary had gone to the bathroom when the man with the dark flashy eyes approached Yani by one of the big speakers near the make-shift stage inside of Rush. He wasn't white, or Latin as his swarthy skin and wavy dark hair suggested. He was dressed like he had money…plenty of it. He was a little tipsy, but in a cute flirty way.

"You are a Goddess and I want to marry you," he said. His voice had an accent like he was from one of those places that always had America fighting. Iran? Saudi Arabia? Iraq?

"I'm sorry, but I am taken," she said. She gave him a smile when his face looked hurt by the response.

"If I told you I needed you tonight, would you come with me?"

The man's eyes were shiny and the mirth in his voice made Yani laugh instead of flicking him aside like a mosquito.

"If you ever change your mind, Goddess, I am here for you."

He gave an exaggerated bow and Yani walked past him to greet her cousins who had all arrived in a pack, shifting the energy in the room with Galibar essence. Their family was well-known, and it was easy to move in the space knowing family was around looking out for her.

Hands on her waist spun her around and Zachary pulled her in for a hug. He was happy and excited to be out with her, constantly pulling her out onto the center of the dance floor so people could see them. It was nice to be with a man who was proud to be with her. Their dinner together had been perfect, the food excellent, and when they arrived at the club Yani felt more like herself again. She wasn't a mommy, or someone's girlfriend, or some worker bee running from job to job…she was just Yani and hanging out with grown-ups, responsible for no one but herself.

She dressed like a star. New make-up she saved up for. Gold choker on her throat. A long yellow dress she ordered online from the States that had cute green and red shapes on it that made her skin look bronzed by the sun. She did feel like a Goddess as her dress flowed around her hips with a small slit at the bottom that gave a tiny peek of her left leg. She even let her cleavage show just straight feeling herself. She allowed herself to drink liquor knowing she had milk bottled at home for Sydette for the next day. She was going to savor this night for a long time.

She extended hugs to her relatives and friends who hadn't seen her out in months. Compliments flowed and Zachary constantly hyped her up. When other men stared at her, Zachary's chest puffed out with pride. She liked how he was secure with thirsty eyes on her.

Rush was filled with gorgeous women, and Yani was happy that she could feel pretty again, not schlepping around in her usual sneakers and sweatpants. Her gold lace-up sandals gave her toes a little trouble at first, but now she was used to them as she moved with Zachary.

Wall to wall patrons crammed into the space and she was happy that Kendall would have an enthusiastic crowd to hear him live.

"Let me have my cousin," Dex said grabbing Yani's hand and taking her over to Monice and Twyla. Zachary nodded and watched her be ushered near the side of the bar.

"Kendall is having a panic attack," Dex said.

"What?" she said.

"He's over by the D.J. booth. I tried talking him down, but he's super nervous and says he can't remember his setlist, and one of his singers isn't coming…he's in a panic. I told Dex to find you," Twyla said.

"Jesus Christ," she said.

Yani waved Zachary over.

"Kendall is losing it, I have to talk to him," she said.

"Want me to go with you?" Zachary asked.

"Yeah, he needs some cheerleaders right now," Yani said.

She held Zachary's hand as she pushed past dancers, the deep bass in the club vibrating through her body. She could see her poor sweet cousin Kendall leaned up against the D.J. booth, his eyes closed and his hands balled into fists. Yani knew the butterflies of pre-performance jitters, but she learned early on to use her nerves to give a good performance. But Kendall was new to this, accustomed to backing other people on stage, not being the center of attention on his own. She hoped he could get through this because a ton of people paid money to come see a show, and he was one of the headliners. His first time being that. It would be a disaster if he couldn't get it together.

"Oh! It's my Goddess again! Here is that vision I was telling you about-!"

That guy again.

Oh shit.

He wasn't alone.

Yani halted in her tracks when she saw Erik sitting next to the Arab man at the bar. Locs cornrowed on his head, eyes relaxed from the drink in his hand, Erik's gaze took her in like he didn't recognize her. Something flickered in his eyes and he leaned forward, his free hand reaching out like he was going to touch her until he saw Zachary next to her.

"Killmonger," she heard herself say.

"The fuck yuh doin' here?!"

Chez's voice almost made her legs buckle when he stalked over to her and grabbed her elbow.

A nightmare made real.

Yani stood still, her eyes darting between three men who were aware of one another and sizing one another up.

"Hey, what is this?" the dark-haired Arab man with the reverent voice said.

Yani grimaced when she felt Chez's fingers digging into her skin. He was pulling her away from Zachary, his hot eyes raking up and down her body taking in how she was dressed.

Yani released her hand from Zachary's and placed it on Chez's arm to try and pry him off. He wouldn't let go, his grip tightening. It hurt.

Erik stood up.

"Take your hand off her."

Erik's voice sounded deadly like it could kill someone in seconds with the terse tone.

His friend stood up with him, feeding into the warning energy Erik gave off. At that moment, Yani knew the Arab man was one of Klaue's men too. Chez had no clue who was confronting him.

"Mind yours, breh. This my baby's mother—"

"—don't give a fuck who she is to you. Back off her—"

Yani's eyes went to Zachary and he stood there not sure what to do, confused as to who Erik was and why he was intruding.

"I need to talk to Kendall!" she shouted shoving Chez away from her. She stomped away from them all. She could hear Erik and Chez going back and forth and when she glanced behind her, she saw her cousin Dex and Dulan pulling Chez away from Erik who was smiling at Chez, his thick neck moving side to side like he was ready to body her ex.

Zachary was right behind her, his face stressed.

"You know he was here?" Zachary asked.

"Why should I care?"

"Who was that other guy? He acted like he knows you—"

"Kendall!"

Yani touched her cousin's neck and his eyes flew open.

"Yani. I feel like I want to throw up," he whispered.

"Calm yourself. It's okay. This is normal—"

"No, it don't feel normal."

"Tell me your songs," she said.

"Bumper…um…Phase Two…Crash Land…She Sez…"

"Good, you know the order and everything. What happened to your back-up?"

"Gloria is here, but Asha is a no show. I go on in ten minutes and Gloria doesn't want to go up without Asha—"

"That's some bullshit," Twyla said easing up next to Kendall and handing him a cup of ice water. She made him drink and rubbed his back. They both could see Kendall calming down.

"Do you have music with their voices already recorded?" Yani asked.

"No."

"Where is Gloria?" Yani asked.

Kendall shrugged.

Yani glanced around the club looking for Gloria. Zachary stood near her, his face looking flustered.

"What?"

"You're not worried about Chez starting something again?" Zachary asked.

"My cousins will snatch him up if he tries something again. Don't worry about him—"

"You still didn't answer me about that other guy—"

"What other guy?" Yani said still scanning the crowd for Kendall's singer.

"The big dude—"

"Zachary, I'm trying to help Kendall, okay?"

"What is Gloria wearing?" he asked.

"She has on one of my shirts, red with me on my motorcycle. She has a big afro…" said Kendall.

"I'll go look," Zachary said.

"Thank you, Zachary," Yani said. She squeezed his arm and watched him leave.

She could see the patrons positioning themselves closer to the stage.

"Hey, Kendall, we doing alright?"

The club D.J., Junior leaned over from his booth, worry on his face.

"He's fine!" Yani said making her voice sound cheerful.

"What?! Yani!" Junior said stepping down from his spot in the booth.

He gave Yani a big hug.

"You look good!" he said.

"Here for my cousin," she said looking over at Kendall, encouraging him to perk up more.

"Are your girls ready Kendall? I have hot mics ready for them. We go on in five—"

"Found her!" Zachary said ushering Gloria back over. The girl looked petrified.

"Kendall, I can't go up by myself—"

"You have to, he needs you to start the song to introduce him!" Twyla interjected, the peevishness in her voice hard to ignore.

"It won't sound right with just me—"

"Make it sound right, you're not gonna fuck up my cousin's show little girl," Twyla said getting into Gloria's face.

"Twyla, that's not helping her—" Yani said.

"Show goes on now, you doing this or not Kendall?"

Junior was all business.

Kendall's eyes sought out Yani.

"Gloria, please, this is where you have to be professional. The show goes on even if part of your crew isn't here. You can't let Kendall down," Yani said.

"Gloria, please," Kendall said.

"Kendall, it's time," Junior said climbing back into the booth. He held out a mic for Kendall and Gloria.

Gloria reached for the mic and Yani felt a sigh of relief flow through her.

"Are you ready for some great music?" Junior called out on his mic as he punched keys on his computer cueing up Kendall's tracks. A roar of "Yes!" came back from the crowd.

Yani held her hands clasped together in front of her silently praying that all things would work in Kendall's favor. Gloria had the mic in her hand, but she looked like she was ready to run.

Junior dropped Kendall's opening track and the room absolutely jumped with the massive bassline. Yani felt her cheeks pull tight as she smiled hard. The track was slapping so good. Gloria stepped forward and started humming, her lackluster energy killing the vibe already.

"Ohmigod, this bitch!" Twyla shouted.

"Give her a chance," Yani said as she bit into her lip, her own nerves scattered when she saw Gloria tanking the performance before it even began.

There were titters from the crowd and many of the people who had been swinging when the beat first dropped now stood still trying to figure out how it all went so wrong in fifteen seconds.

"Give me that goddamn mic you stupid girl!" Twyla said racing onto the platform that was used for the stage.

"Yani, c'mon," Twyla said shoving Gloria aside, "give me back again," Twyla said to Junior who synced the music back to the beginning.

Yani shook her head at Twyla.

"Yani…" Kendall whispered.

Kendall's eyes were wild-looking, his nerves frayed, and at that moment, Yani knew she had to do whatever it took to salvage this for him.

She stepped onto the stage and grabbed a mic that Junior held out for her. The music rattled the walls once more and the club lights lit up and heated her face. She quickly focused on what she needed to do. This was Kendall's first track…"Bumper"…an ode to asses. She heard Kendall rap to this track for weeks, had to hear the hook being sung every damn day she came home from work while he was in the shower.

Twyla wound her hips to the dancehall-tinged track and when her eyes met Yani's, she nodded her head and they both faced the audience and gave Kendall a proper introduction.

###

Tahir had been mumbling about some woman he saw when he went to the restroom, but Erik found himself trying to avoid Isis, the girl he slept with at the Marriott.

She spotted him at the bar and Erik made sure to stay cordial, but she was cramping his style by hanging off of him the way women did after he messed with them. She looked amazing in her peek-a-boo skintight white dress and red heels, but he was not feeling her at all. Even when he introduced her to Tahir who was extremely good-looking, Isis stuck to him like cops on a niggas ass. He was already pulling women that could help him get through his stay on the island, but this bird was clucking too much.

He went dancing with a random girl who walked past him and Isis still didn't get the hint. Finally, he was just straight up with her saying he was just trying to have fun with his friend and wasn't interested in hooking up that night. She was buzzing from drinking rum and his words didn't seem to halt her advances until he physically left her at one side of the main bar and moved with Tahir on the other side.

Tahir was in island heaven, his eyes taking in all the sights of bright lights, heavy Soca and Hip Hop beats, and the thickolicious women roaming the club, so many of them single.

"I swear to you she must be in the employ of a jinn, her eyes…may Allah bless me with a wife with eyes like that…. Oh! It's my Goddess again! Here is that vision I was telling you about-!"

Tahir shoved Erik's shoulder and he turned to see Yani walking toward them. When she stopped in front of them Erik thought fate was fucking with him because she had just crossed his mind again, him wondering if she was out on the floor dancing or on her way to the club. His eyes couldn't release her from their hold as he saw what she looked like outside of cleaning and cooking for the compound. It was her, totally her, but she was just so…

He couldn't even figure out the words before he was reaching out to touch her, wanting to already pull her into his arms and keep her next to him. But then he saw her fingers entwined with a man standing behind her.

He heard her say his name, not the one he wanted her to call him, but the one he hid behind, and she still made the harshness of it sound so sweet to his ears. He longed to pull on the straps of her dress, slip one down from her shoulder and place his lips on the skin there. The gold choker on her neck made him want to place his hand there and squeeze, push her against a wall and pull up the gauzy dress she wore that made her curves too visible for his comfort. He knew what was under that dress and he wanted to see it again. See it on his bed, her legs stretched open wall to wall, her big eyes looking up at him when he entered her heat…

Before he could even gather himself and act chill, (as if the sight of her with some other man didn't bother him when it clearly did agitate him), another dude was yelling at Yani, man-handling her as if he owned her.

Erik saw Yani grimace and that was it.

When she broke away from her baby's father, he wanted to follow her, but the other guy she was with trailed behind her and the baby daddy started to act buck with Erik.

"You ain't gon' do shit, bruh," Erik told him, even laughing at dude when he started flexing for the crowd, but not really trying to go there with Erik. Two other men came over and pulled the man away, calling him "Chez" and Erik made a mental note to check the guy out. He was so quick to come down on Yani, Erik got the feeling the dude was trouble and could retaliate.

"You know her?" Tahir finally said when the commotion calmed down.

"She works at the compound for Klaue."

Tahir's eyes perked up, but when he glanced at Erik, he got the hint that she was off-limits.

He sat back and sipped on his rum again, his eyes scanning for Yani and spotting her near the D.J. booth talking to some people. A huge banger thumped through the speakers and Erik head-bobbed with everyone else as they all watched a cute woman climb onstage. She started humming and then her voice faded under the music.

Did she forget the words or something?

Another woman came on stage and snatched the mic from the first girl and told the D.J. to start the song over. That slamming intro whopped everyone over the head again, and this time he watched Yani climb onstage and join the new girl and they sang a hook that made the crowd go buck wild.

Shit. They sounded good, Better than good.

"Is that my Goddess again?" Tahir squeaked, bouncing on his feet.

Erik stood up and rocked along with the club patrons. The smokey deeper alto of the other singer cradled Yani's honey voice, the harmonies flowing to a young dude who bounced on stage, his energy high and infectious as he spit bars that elevated the music even more. Kendall. Erik yanked out his cell and began recording for Leona.

"Fucking incredible," Tahir said nodding his head and raising his hand when Kendall told the crowd to.

Yani and the other woman rocked behind him as Kendall extolled the virtues of why he loved a woman's ass. Yani and the woman bounced their ass cheeks to the beat, turning sideways so the audience could see what they had, and Erik felt a groan clamp down in his throat watching Yani stick her tongue out playfully and shake her cheeks low, her left hand clutching the hem of her dress as she showed everyone the outline of high-grade shelf booty.

The first song ended and Kendall introduced Yani and his other cousin Twyla. Both women bowed to the audience and stood behind Kendall as he went into another song that was just as good.

The kid was good, a little shaky on his transitions, but he held the audience pretty well. The second song didn't have a need for Twyla or Yani, so they just danced together being excellent hype women for their cousin who had pretty decent bars and clever delivery. The last two songs they joined back in and when Kendall was done with his set, he received hearty applause and whistles from the crowd.

"Now we have to pay our respects people…," the D. J. said, "Yani…Yani…come back up here love."

Yani took to the stage again as Kendall stood next to her beaming.

"Yani sang on Tattler's mixtape two years ago, and was on Big C's song 'Recognize Me', yuh remember? She's our Black mermaid!"

Murmurs from the crowd let him know they knew those tracks.

"Yani, take us back for a minute girl…please…"

The D. J. dropped a tune and the crowd shouted. Yani covered her face as Kendall laughed and patted her back. It was a hybrid of dancehall and a tiny bit of dub.

"I came here to watch my cousin perform and chill with my family Junior!" she said.

"For old times sake, Yani. We've missed you, love. Sincerely. You a real one."

The D.J.'s words triggered something in her and Yani covered her eyes. She burst out crying. Erik stepped forward wanting to touch her face and wipe those tears away, but Kendall stepped up and rubbed her back, whispering something in her ear.

"We love you, Yani!"

A woman's shout from the crowd, made Yani lift her head up.

Erik put his cell phone down.

"You got this, Yani!" Erik yelled at her. Yani's face gazed back toward his direction and the audience agreed with him by clapping for her.

"Turn me up," she said to the D.J. and he made her mic a little louder, "Can I freestyle? I don't want to sing that old version. Mi nuh want anything that reminds me of my ex."

The crowd laughed.

"Do what you feel, Yani," the D.J. said.

The music brought her back and Erik knew she couldn't see him, not with those bright ass lights on her face, but she stayed gazing out in his direction.

"Yuh my likkle water boy,

Wind me up like I'm yuh brand new toy

Yuh bring new kinds of joy

And me wahn some more

Wull on pon me

Wull on pon me and take away all me stress…"

Her flow had him moving his hips along with everyone else.

"Did you know she could do that?" Tahir asked, his fingers popping and his feet bouncing side to side.

"Her Aunt said she sang," Erik said, mesmerized.

"Me wahn to peel yuh like some fresh ripe fruit

Lick you down like my Auntie's soup

Got me pattin' on my kitty cat

Me suspect

You wahn grip my neck

Lookie,

I'll let you whisper me the rest

I promise this no test

Stop makin me vex

Come wull pon me…."

Fuck.

She was singing to him.

Erik felt the hairs on his neck raise. Her voice was way too intimate and the lyrics too specific to be about anyone else other than him. Her tone was seductive and she hadn't changed the direction of her stance facing his way.

"Lookie

Won't you come over love

So I can show you love

Promise I got enough to give you all you need

Lookie

Some lovers search to find a love like mine

A love as good as mine

I'll never waste your time

Such a vibe…"

When she finished, she giggled and let the mic hit the side of her hip. Erik felt like everyone could see that the smile on his face was for her and only her. Kendall hugged her and the club patrons clapped.

"Give it up for Yani, the Black Mermaid, yeah!"

"She needs to be home takin' care of her pickney!"

Chez's voice rang out loud and rude.

Yani's head turned in his direction, and Erik felt ready to stomp the nigga out right in front of her.

"What kinda mother hang out in a club with tits out like that? Shame!"

"Fuck you!" Yani yelled out to him and the crowd laughed.

Erik spotted Chez leaning on the other side of the bar.

"Out here being a hoe. You no hot girl no more—"

The crowd heckled Chez back.

"It's ok, it's ok, him try to shame me. It not gon' work. You want this smoke, Chez? I give it to you. Junior, give me Chez's beat. That old Big C joint he couldn't make pop."

Yani stepped to the edge of the stage.

"Run that beat back fuh mi," she said, "I see you. I got your hoe right here."

Chez threw his hands up egging her on.

"What you got for me, huh, bitch? What? You got nothin'!"

Erik felt his jaw clench.

"And dis a wah mi get fi understand Seh yuh cya keep yuh dick inna yuh pants Yuh think seh fucking every gyal mek yuh feel more like a man Yuh supposed to be my right hand, my go to And nobody nuh fi come to me about you Cause when yuh down, I lift you up I keep you moving when yuh stuck Yuh ma nigga you supposed to be my goku Or my best friend, who yuh texting Everyday yuh seh dem gyal yah upsetting But I'm patiently waiting Because anuh my time dem wasting Anuh my time dem wasting

Yuh tired dickhole

Pack up and leave if yuh nuh want mi Cause mi honestly rather be lonely Yuh nav nuh time fi me, yuh all fi yuh self, I see Pack up and leave if yuh nuh want mi Cause mi honestly rather be lonely Yuh nav nuh time fi we

No time fi Sydette or mi…"

Erik shoved his fist up to his mouth along with everyone else in the club as heads turned in Chez's direction.

"See, that's what happens when you come for me," Yani said.

She handed the mic back to Junior and stepped away from the stage with Kendall's arm thrown around her neck. The laughter was ferocious and it cut Chez deep, especially when she mentioned Sydette at the end.

Erik strolled over to the man to keep an eye on him, but Chez turned around and stormed out of the club with his boys.

He watched Yani get pats on the back and hugs as she made her way over to the bar. When her eyes caught him again, he thought he would have a chance to talk to her, but her boyfriend entwined his fingers with hers and took her out to dance.

Erik grabbed the nearest woman's hand and pulled her out on the floor with him.

Anything to be near Yani...

###

Part 5 [Part 6]

youtube

Authors Note: Lyrics that Yani spits is stuff I made up mixed with actual Jada Kingdom songs, “Wull On” and “Love Situations”.

Tag List:

@fonville-designs @soufcakmistress @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon @thadelightfulone @allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky @raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514 @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow

#killmonger #killmonger fic #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger fanfic #killmonger smut #njadaka #njadaka fanfiction #erik stevens #erik stevens fanfic #black panther #black panther fanfiction #black panther fanfic #klaue #ulysses klaue fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #killmonger imagine #wakandacon2019 #wakandacon

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

Sugar and Spice, Chapter 10 (Bitney/Group Fic) - Lita & Veronica

A/N: Hey kitty girls! Welcome to Chapter 10 of Sugar and Spice, our Bitney lesbian High School AU! You can find the previous chapters here.

In this chapter, Bianca takes matters into her own hands...and ends up with a lot more than she bargained for.

AKA: We told you that this wasn’t a slow burn...

CHAPTER 10

Per their annual tradition, Adore’s birthday was a small gathering, just their group, a few pizzas, lots of alcohol, and some weed (Laganja’s standard party offering, which was usually mostly consumed by a combination of Adore herself, Ganj, and Trinity). Also per tradition, Adore had to go on a yearly rant about what a fucking cunt Violet was, intentionally spoiling her birthday by having a huge blowout party on the same night as whatever Adore planned.

Dela and the others were used to it. Even Trinity had heard the spiel twice before. But this was Bianca’s first time. Apparently, every year since 5th grade, Violet had been doing this. For the first few years, Adore just moved her celebration to the weekend before or after, but ever since 8th grade, she’d said fuck it, and used the night to see who her real friends were.

Violet had never been Bianca’s favorite person - what she knew of her, anyway - but this new information solidified her on Team Adore. What a bitch.

“I mean, what even is her problem!?” Adore demanded, getting right in Max’s face.

“I-I don’t know!” Max sputtered, looking at the others helplessly.

“Man, what’s the use of having a Mallrat around if she can’t even give us info?” Trinity asked.

Laganja laughed and high-fived her, and Gia giggled.

“I’m actually serious.” Trinity turned to Dela. “You brought her over. What is her purpose?”

“To bum. Me. Out!” Adore moaned.

“Maybe...maybe I should go,” said Max, big eyes looking misty, so helpless that Dela, in spite of herself, felt a stab of guilt.

She put a hand on Max’s shoulder, saying quietly, “Look, today is gonna be hard for her. So...just don’t take it personally. I’m glad you’re here.”

Max sniffled, giving her a grateful nod.

Conflict resolution - specifically trying to keep Adore calm, and then scraping her off the ceiling when she eventually flipped out over something-or-other - had apparently been Dela’s designated job at these parties since she was maybe twelve, at least according to what she moaned to Bianca about later on.

“Whatever. I’ve got my eye on you, Maxine Mala-phanana-whatever,” Trinity said, and then made a sudden movement towards Max, who jumped about ten feet. Trinity laughed. “Chillax, dude, I was only kidding.”

“Oh...okay…” Max swallowed and turned back to Adore.“I really am sorry about your birthday,” she said.

“Oh, fuck off!” Adore replied, setting onto the sofa with a sigh.

Bianca’s attention was pulled from their exchange by a soft, evil little snicker beside her. Gia was intently focused on her phone, and it made Bianca nervous.

“Gia, what are you doing?” She craned her neck to have a look, getting a brief glance of devil horns and red eyes scribbled across Violet’s picture.

“Nothing! Just updating my blog!” Gia chirped, batting her lashes. She then produced her phone proudly, showing her handiwork to Adore and Laganja, who burst out laughing.

“Good one, bitch!”

Bianca sighed. She always felt a bit out of place at these parties. Partly because she’d been the last one to join the group (Max didn’t count, not yet), and partly because she felt so unstylish and plain compared to everyone else. Her black leggings and cast t-shirt from Evita, hair in a messy bun, didn’t hold a candle to her eclectic, fashionable friends. First there was Dela in her retro silk pajama set, Adore’s cropped metal tee and boy-short panties, and Trinity in a purple sports bra and black drop-crotch sweats. Team Too Much always looked straight out a glamorous teen movie, in matching Victoria’s Secret camisoles and coordinating velvet shorts. Even Max, in her objectively quite cute, albeit slightly old lady-ish slip nightie, looked good. Bianca’s mind drifted, wondering what Courtney would be wearing if she were here. Certainly something just as chic as everyone else, if not more.

She shook the images out of her mind. No idle fantasies in mixed company.

Dela tried her best to keep Adore off social media, but around 10:30, she emerged from the bathroom to see her scrolling through Instagram with a forlorn expression.

“Adore, come on. Put that down.”

“No, I wanna see what those cunts are up to,” Adore slurred, holding her phone out of Dela’s reach. “You wanna look too? They’re all a bunch of sluts. Look at this!” Adore showed her a picture from April’s feed, of Violet and Pearl, wearing nothing but skimpy lingerie and cheap wigs, dumb masks over their eyes. Fame looked slightly more respectable. Her blue bra was paired with a tulle skirt and black choker

Dela tilted her head. “Is she supposed to be Cinderella?”

“Who cares,” Adore grumbled, when a picture from Dan caught her eye. It was Courtney, standing between Katya and Trixie. Wearing a bright red wig and a top made of purple seashells. Adore’s eyes bulged, righteous anger bubbling up inside. “That fucking bitch! She knows that mermaids are my thing!”

Adore flung her phone across the room with an enraged shriek. Bianca put an arm around her, trying to empathize, trying to erase the picture of how cute Courtney looked out of her head. Now was not the time for that.

“Maybe...she’s just trying to get your attention?”

“Of course that’s what she’s doing! I fucking know that!” Adore exclaimed. “That doesn’t make it okay!”

Dela sat down on the ottoman in front of her, using special mom powers to soothe her as Bianca’s mind drifted. She had a plan...a plan that had the potential to backfire in a terrible way. She glanced over at her friend, who was clearly still upset, going on and on about Courtney’s general awfulness.

“...and by the way, she was like, seven when she moved here. She only does that accent for attention!”

“I know, I know,” Dela clucked, rubbing her shoulders.

“Girl, just forget her,” Trinity added. “She’s not fucking worth it.”

Bianca swallowed. She was banking on the fact that Courtney was worth it. That her friendship with Adore would be able to weather this storm and maybe even come out stronger, if only someone knew how to wrangle them both.

The first part of her plan was easy. Fake a stomach bug, hop into her brother’s shitbox of a car, and then drive up into Violet’s neighborhood a short distance away - where the bougiest Hillsiders lived, in giant Mediterranean-style villas with the best views in town. She changed quickly in the backseat, into a ninja costume that she hoped would give her enough of a disguise to get into the party without being recognized, and then took a deep breath.

Now, the hard part.

***

Bianca walked through Violet’s house, glad that her face was mostly covered, and that everyone seemed to be pretty hammered. At one point, Pearl looked right at her and kind of tilted her head in recognition, but she quickly dashed down a hallway. Where the fuck was Courtney, anyway?

She finally spotted her, leaning on a banister talking to some asshole in a football helmet. (Quite the creative costume on him.) Courtney, for her part, seemed to be greatly enjoying tossing that red hair over her shoulder, simpering at him like a drunken idiot.

In person, her costume was even more scandalous than it looked in the picture. More body glitter than fabric, with a skimpy bra that barely covered her and a shiny green skirt that was paper-thin and partially transparent, slit all the way up to her hip - Bianca took a deep breath as she approached.

“I need to talk to you,” Bianca hissed into Courtney’s ear, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into the nearest bedroom, a cotton candy pink abomination that clearly belonged to Violet’s younger sister.

“Hey!”

Bianca slammed the door behind them, locking it and turning to Courtney with a furrowed brow. At that moment, Courtney’s face lit up in a drunken grin of recognition, and she threw her arms around Bianca’s neck, pulling her mask down.

“B! Oh my god, fiiiinally,” she cooed, parted lips heading for Bianca’s, eyes falling closed.

Bianca grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her backwards.

“Excuse me, I didn’t come here, risking my life out there, for your drunken, bicurious bullshit! I came here to talk some fucking sense into you. These girls are just using you, they aren’t your friends, I should never have told you to--wait, what do you mean finally?” It felt like the wheels were turning awfully slowly.

Courtney giggled and walked her fingers up Bianca’s arm.

“Come on, B, loosen up. It’s a party.”

“Yeah, well, I know that you love to do this to like, impress boys, or whatever, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Do you see any boys in here?” Courtney asked, fluttering her lashes. “‘Cause I don’t…”

“How drunk are you right now?” Bianca asked, irritated.

“Drunk enough to tell you that you look hot in black, and I really like that lipstick, but I’d like it better all over my face…” Courtney leaned in again.

“Stop it!” Bianca exclaimed, shoving her backwards harder this time, panic setting in.

Courtney paused, swallowing, suddenly chagrined.

“Okay. I’m sorry, I just…” Her head felt a little fuzzy as she tried to explain, hoping that Bianca wasn’t angry. “I like you, B. I mean I thought that was pretty fucking obvious, since I’ve been throwing myself at you all year. And I kind of got the sense that maybe you liked me too. I guess I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Bianca, who’d been pacing around the room as Courtney spoke, sat down on the bed.

“This isn’t why I came,” she repeated, shaking her head.

“Okay. I get it! I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad, okay? I’ve already lost enough friends and you-”

Courtney suddenly stopped talking. Bianca was just staring at her with a blank expression. She sighed, defeated, eyes filling with tears, and turned to leave, muttering another apology.

“Wait,” Bianca said.

Every cell in Bianca’s body was screaming at her to stop. This wasn’t the plan. The plan was to finish high school without ever risking getting her heart fucking shattered. To deny, deny, deny so no one would have the opportunity to reject her. The plan was to just be fucking chill. And if she confessed what she was about to confess, then all of that was out the window.

But the truth was, she wanted so badly to be honest. She swallowed, hating the injured look in Courtney’s green eyes. For the first time, she dared to believe that maybe...maybe Courtney would understand how she felt.

“...Yeah?” Courtney blinked, waiting.

“You’re not wrong. But...I just didn’t plan on ever admitting it out loud to you. Okay?” Bianca looked down.

Courtney didn’t move for a long moment, then walked over to join her on the bed, sitting down gingerly beside her.

“Why not?” she asked softly. She knew not to push too hard - couldn’t shake the feeling that she was on very thin ice. One wrong move and she might destroy everything.

“Uh, because then you would know?” Bianca rolled her eyes.

“But why didn’t you want me to know?” Courtney asked with a slight chuckle.

“Because you couldn’t possibly…” Bianca looked down again. “I was 100% certain that you’d never feel the same way.”

“You really didn’t know how I felt?” Courtney asked, incredulous. “I’ve been literally flirting with you nonstop all year.”

“You flirt with everyone.”

“Fair point,” Courtney laughed. “But...it’s different with you,” she added, moving closer, heart rate picking up. “Isn’t it?”

“You actually like me?” Bianca’s fingers were inches from Courtney’s. The heat rising to her cheeks made her feel clumsy and awkward and wrong.

“Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“Because…you’re like...you. Bouncy and happy and perfect, and, and besides, you like boys.” Bianca said this as if it was painfully obvious.

"And?"

"And so why are you saying that you like me?!"

"Because I do." Courtney was starting to get a little exasperated by this circular conversation.

"You're not making any sense. You’re not gay. You like boys. So how do you like me?"

"How do you have any fun with such rigid rules about human behavior?" Courtney asked with a coy tilt of her head.

"Courtney. Please."

"I like boys, sometimes. So I guess...I’m not gay. I don’t really know what I am. But I know that I like you...a lot. Ever since last year, when we went to see you in Evita. You were so fucking gorgeous up there, and so talented, and I, actually stopped breathing a few times, watching you...you’re the reason I even tried out for Wicked.”

Bianca chuckled.

“Come on…”

“It’s true! I just wanted to spend more time with you. And then Dela got hurt, and I was secretly happy, which I know makes me kind of a shitty person, but...I really liked being onstage with you.”

“Me too,” Bianca admitted.

Courtney took a deep breath and moved even closer. Now that their legs were touching, Bianca inhaled sharply.

“Plus you’re hilarious, and smart, and I was so thrilled when you started hanging out with us, and...I don’t know, I just think you’re amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Bianca said, cheeks burning up now, and getting hotter by the second.

“So…”

Bianca’s heart raced. Was this really her life? Was this really happening? All thoughts of why she’d originally come, of repairing the rift between Courtney and Adore, all of it flew right out the window as she looked into Courtney’s soft eyes.

In a weird way, she felt compelled to pinch herself and check she wasn’t actually stuck in some kind of vivid daydream back in Adore’s room thanks to the second-hand weed smoke. And in entirely another, she almost didn’t want this moment to end - because if it went any further, there was some kind of chance that things would fuck up. But right here, in this space between confession and whatever came next, she was so close to her ridiculous fantasy that she could practically taste it, and it was beautiful, but it was agony at the same time. The whole thing was like the worst possible sort of ecstasy.

“So…” Bianca managed to breathe, voice barely audible. The tips of Courtney’s fingers rested on her leg, tapping a delicate pattern on her thigh, and now that she knew what Court actually - apparently - meant by the action, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you now? You know, even though there’s no boys watching?” Courtney asked, nose wrinking in the cutest little way.

Dimples appeared in Bianca’s cheeks as she took Courtney’s face in her hands, whispering, “Shut up.”

“Make me,” was the teasing reply.

Bianca’s heart was by pounding so loud now that she was sure Courtney could hear it. Courtney began to lean in, and Bianca stared at her, wide-eyed, as their lips met.

Her mouth was soft and warm, lips parted. Bianca cupped her cheeks, savoring every moment. Sparks rippled through her body, making her feel more alive than she’d ever felt. Then Courtney’s fingers gripped her thigh tighter and she thought she might pass out. The tequila fumes on Courtney’s breath lingered on her tongue, and Bianca felt compelled to lick her lips, but didn’t for fear of wiping the taste away, because that would mean losing the last few traces of what had just happened. She wished she could spend her life feeling how she felt in that precise second.

Courtney lifted her head, looking into Bianca’s eyes with a dreamy expression. Bianca’s thumb brushed against her lips. Courtney reached up to sweep the red hair off of her face, Bianca watching how she moved and trying to memorize it - determined to save as much of this moment as she could. Just in case it was all she got.

“Well, you were right. It really does look good all over your face,” Bianca whispered, and they both giggled.

“Maybe we should-” Courtney stopped abruptly, eyes wide, as loud banging sounded at the door.

“COURTNEY! ARE YOU IN THERE?!”

#rpdr fanfiction #bitney #bianca del rio #courtney act #adore delano #trinity k bonet #max malanaphy #bendelacreme #fluff #mild angst #high school au #lesbian au #group fic #sugar and spice #lita #veronica #concrit welcome

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