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nikethestatue · 2 years ago

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There Was Only One Bed

Happy birthday @tswaney17

My bestie, my mate, my girl. I love you oddles and I hope that your birthday is amazing! Enjoy this provocatively titled little story.

“When will you ever man up, grow a pair of actual balls, swallow your pride and your insecurities and do what you fucking want to do? For once!”

Cassian’s rough words jolted Azriel out of his reverie and she gave his brother-best friend-bro-business partner a look of contempt and disdain. The best one he could come up with. Problem was that Cass could give it back just as well, and then some.

“Fine,” Cass shrugged, feigning indifference.

“Yeah, fine. Mind your own business,” Azriel suggested, his annoyance tripling, simply because he knew that Cass was correct.

“You know, Cass is correct,” Rhys called out–unhelpfully–from the sofa.

Azriel couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling. It was as if his brothers were in cahoots and agreed to drive him crazy.

Cass tipped his tumbler back, swallowing the last of his whiskey, and pointed his finger at him, “You know, literally everyone knows.”

Rhys was nodding, drinking his vodka and lime, brow cocked meaningfully.

Azriel, usually the picture of self-control and unreadable emotions, growled at both of them,

“Nobody knows anything. Why? Because it’s not true. You and her sisters convinced yourselves that there is something going on,”

Cassian shook his head vigorously, his long black hair whipping about as if he was advertising for Pantene,

“No, no, we know that nothing is going on,” he kept pointing at Azriel with his finger, and Azriel wondered if it would be inappropriate to just break it. Cass was a tough guy, he could handle it. “Because if there was something going, you’d be with Elain freakin’ Archeron, in bumfuck Tennessee, drinking bourbon, eating barbecue, just before going home and getting your birthday dick sucked like a proper 30 year old, instead of hanging out with us–two dudes, who will definitely not suck your birthday dick,”

To that, Rhys nodded his head in acquiescence and piped in,

“Yeah, love you bro, but you can keep your anaconda in your jeans,”

“Jesus fuck,” Azriel gritted through his teeth.

“No, Jesus wept!” Cassian roared, like he was personally offended by Azriel and Jesus.

“Jesus has taken his hands off the wheel,” Rhys agreed. “He is no longer helping,”

Defensively, Azriel snapped at them, “Vanderbilt is not ‘bumfuck Tennessee’ Cassian.”

Cassian got up and went to the bar, pouring himself another drink, while saying,

“You know, don’t come crying to me a year from now, when Elain is getting a proposal from some corn-fed good ol’ boy who’s got a lifetime membership at an exclusive golf club, wears Sperrys, played football in college and is now a VP in daddy’s successful company.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure not to run to you,” Azriel assured him, his brother’s words stinging sharply and filling him with dread.

And that’s how he found himself on the plane from NYC to Tennessee.

What was he even trying to accomplish? He had no idea.

All he knew was that last night, Elain texted him.

Elain: Hi Az! Happy birthday! It’s weird to not be there with you today.

Azriel: Thank you, El.

(Thank you, El? What the hell?! That’s all he could manage? Maybe he was hopeless.) At that moment, for better or for worse, Cassian ripped the phone out of his hands and began tapping on it furiously. Azriel began wrestling with him, trying to get the phone back, before horrible damage was done, but Rhys and Nesta wrangled him back, while Cassian finished whatever he was typing, waited for the response, smirked widely once he read it, and then typed something more.

“Stop,” Azriel half-begged and half-ordered.

Cassian didn’t listen.

With a smug smile, he handed the phone back to Azriel. Azriel’s heart was beating in his chest like a bird in a cage, when he looked at the screen.

Azriel: I wish you were here as well. With me. For my 30th birthday.

Elain: I am sorry. I didn’t think you’d miss me.

Azriel: Don’t be ridiculous. I miss you all the time. More than you think. But guess what!

Elain: What?

Azriel: I’ll be there tomorrow. In Nash. Business trip.

Elain: You have business in Nashville?

Azriel: Sure do. Can I stay with you?

Elain: You want to stay with me?

Azriel: If I may. If it’s alright with you.

Elain: I suppose that’s fine. I will see you tomorrow? I am excited!

Azriel: Me too! See you.

“What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?” Azriel screamed at Cassian, slapping the back of his brother’s head, and hearing Nesta’s defensive, “hey, chill out, Az!”

“He asked her if I could stay with her!” Azriel raged. “I’d never ask something like that! I’d never write something like that!”

“She don’t know that,” Cassian puffed indifferently. “She is fine. She wants you to stay with her.”

“No she doesn’t!” Azriel pulled at the ends of his thick, black hair. “No! No she doesn’t,”

“She said ‘yes’,”

“It’s because you forced her!!!”

Cassian slapped his shoulder and announced,

“No, you forced her, Az.”

Scowling, Azriel groaned ‘fucker’, while Rhysand handed him his own phone.

“Ticket booked and bought,” he grinned the most annoying fake-innocent smile.

Collapsing on the bar stool, Azriel buried his face in his hands, muttering, “fuckers. You are both fuckers.”

Azriel Knight loved Elain Archeron since the first time he saw her.

Pathetic. Cliche.

Whatever.

He’d fallen for her during a very uncomfortable dinner, when her youngest sister Feyre introduced her new boyfriend Rhys to her sisters Nesta and Elain. Rhys had both Azriel and Cassian accompany him, and the dinner was kind of a disaster. Neither Cassian nor Nesta could keep their mouths shut, and there was plenty of bickering and sniping between the two. Feyre player referee. Rhys tried to remain diplomatic, and kept the conversation going. But Azriel…well, Azriel was enchanted by the beautiful middle sister, Elain. He didn’t hear Nesta and Cassian going at it. He didn’t notice Rhys’s hands balling into fists. He didn’t notice Feyre’s squirming. All he saw was an ethereal 24 year old, who glowed like the sun at dawn. Polite, lovely, welcoming Elain. Elain, who was clutching a fork in her small soft hand, ready to attack Cassian, if he continued to fight with Nesta.

How could Azriel not love her?

How was it possible not to love a sweet, lovely girl who was willing to throw it down with his 6”5 ex-Navy Seal brother?

Elain. The love of his life.

Elain. Who had no idea that he was attracted to her. Elain. Who wasn’t interested in him. Elain. Who only saw him as a ‘friend’.

Fuck his life. He didn’t want to be a friend.

Now, he was turning 30 and he felt like his life, his last chance with her, was slipping through his fingers. However, somehow, the longer he waited the more paralysed he became. Conversations between the two of them became stilted, uncomfortable, and he was frustrated with himself and his inability to approach her and just have it out with her. Explain. Confess his feelings. But the prospect of her rejecting him filled him with such unbearable dread that he couldn’t bring himself to take that fateful step. He couldn't grow the balls that Cassian was recommending for him to grow.

Azriel’s heart was broken even further when Elain notified everyone that she received a full scholarship to go to Vanderbilt University for her graduate program.

Two years.

She’d left three months ago and he was already climbing the walls.

He texted her frequently and awkwardly, needing the connection, yearning for the thread of affection and yes, fucking friendship, because it was better than nothing. There was a glimmer of hope however–the communication wasn't one-sided. Elain texted him frequently as well. She sent him jokes and memes, and his favourite days were those when she greeted him in the morning with a fun emoji. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but the morning ‘hello’ was what he lived for. And luckily, she’d been sending those to him consistently. Sometimes, she sent him links to ridiculous Reddit posts and they laughed together at questions such as ‘I Ate a Year Old Packet of Ketchup. When will I die?’ and they laughed and laughed, talking on the phone for hours, often when they were cooking dinner or watching a show together.

Her not being at his 30th birthday sort of broke his heart. That’s all he actually really wanted. The only person who mattered. And she wasn’t there.

Nashville was hot as balls.

By the time he got into his Uber, he was already sweating. So that was great. He was going to show up at Elain’s doorstep dripping sweat like a freak.

The drive from the airport took about 25 minutes and with every minute, Azriel was getting more and more nervous. He and Elain were never really…together before. They hung out, they went out together in group settings, they celebrated Christmas and Thanksgiving and birthdays together, and Rhys hosted his annual huge 4th of July celebration barbeque, where they had to be in charge of dessert last year. Elain went into a full general mode, telling Azriel what to do, how to do it, what to get, and he was happy to follow her directions. Especially when those directions led him to her little apartment, where they spent 6 hours together, baking pies, making fudge, Elain directing him at every turn, and him following dutifully.

The car stopped at a modern four-story apartment building and he got out, standing at the door for a good five minutes, sweating again, unable to press the button.

“Az!” he heard the familiar voice and looked up. She was on the balcony, waving at him, and just like that, the nervousness abated.

This was his Elain.

And whatever was going to happen, at least, he would spend his 30th with her.

Elain’s apartment was small, modern and very her. Piles of flowers everywhere. Smelled of jasmine and vanilla, and a touch of honey. Cute furniture. A neat sofa nestled between two bookshelves.

He noticed all of these details while holding Elain in his arms, in which she threw herself the moment he stepped over the threshold.

“I can’t believe you are here!” she exclaimed, her arms wrapped around his waist, while he gingerly held her to himself. And it felt so, so good. For a moment, he forgot about everything–his bogus story about his ‘business trip’, his insecurity, the past, and the future. His girl was in his arms and that was enough. That was his best birthday gift.

“Okay, I made you dinner!” she announced, taking his ugly scarred hand in hers, her thumb tracing the bumpy, rough skin.

“You didn't have to,” he began, but she interrupted him breezily.

“Nonsense! It’s your birthday! I wanted to make something special and I am so excited that you are here,”

He looked down at her and asked,

“Really?”

She nodded and smiled at him.

“Of course really! I was beside myself for not being able to go back to NYC for your big 3-0, but money is tight,”

“I understand,” he assured her quickly. “I wasn’t expecting,”

“You should expect,” she told him firmly. “You should expect your friends to be there for you.”

Ugh.

Friends.

There it was. His most hated word.

“If you want to shower, it’s through there,” she showed him, “and I’ll finish up dinner.”

It was strange.

This domesticity between the two of them.

Azriel didn't know what to do with his bag, so he left it by the door. What worried him now was the little couch. He was 6”4. He could probably make it work, but he really wasn’t convinced. It was not made for someone of his bulk and his height. He hoped that Elain had an air mattress or something. Maybe he could sleep in the bathtub?

However, once he stepped into the bathroom, he only found a shower.

Great…

As he stepped inside the glass enclosure, he became acutely aware of his own nakedness in Elain’s space. There was just a door between him and his nude body and Elain. Using her body wash was also nice. Intimate and he was happy that it didn’t smell too girly. Whatever ‘Snowflake Sparkle’ smelled like, it smelled good.

Elain went all out.

The small round table was set up properly with nice dishes, wine glasses, even cloth napkins and a few candles.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he looked around, still hoping to see another sofa or something, but then Elain caught his attention. She had rebraided her hair, put on some softly-shimmering lip balm, which made her already soft, luscious lips look even plumper, more kissable.

He really needed to stop thinking like that.

They were friends.

But did friends wear cute flower dresses like these? And did friends nervously invited him to sit down at the table and handed him a bottle of Prosecco, murmuring shyly,

“I thought it would be appropriate to have some bubbly for your birthday.”

“Thank you, Elain. You didn’t…” he stopped himself, knowing that she’d just argue with him. “This is perfect.”

She blushed and when he poured a glass for each of them, she lifted and said,

“To you, Az! I hope you have a good birthday,”

“It’s proving to be pretty great already,” he said.

“And I hope that you get what you wish for,” she clinked the glass with his and then gulped down nervously.

He was pretty much already getting many of his wishes come true.

“I made risotto and scallops,” she announced, as she skipped to the stove and he gasped and chided her,

“Elain! Scallops are so expensive!”

“But it’s your birthday. And for your birthday, you deserve to get the best.”

Without thinking he said, “I already have the best.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced at him in a way that maybe wasn’t exactly friendly. Like maybe it was something different…

“So.”

Azriel was full. And happy. And pleased. And it was the best birthday of his life.

He ate so much lemon risotto and six very large, succulent scallops, and drank Prosecco and then they split another bottle of wine between the two of them, only to end the feast with a strawberry mascarpone cake, which was out of this world, and was homemade by Elain. She lit birthday candles and sang ‘Happy Birthday�� to him, while doing an adorable dance, which also looked unbelievably sexy.

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” he marvelled.

She bit her lower lip, and said, “It was my pleasure.”

No, it was definitely his pleasure. All of it. If only he could pull that fleshy lower lip of hers into his mouth and kiss her senseless, then his birthday would be complete.

“So?” he wondered what this was about.

Her hands on her small round hips, she looked both fierce and anxious somehow.

“I only have one bed,” she said at last.

His face dropped.

“Oh…Well, that’s okay. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She frowned at the idea and shook her head,

“I don’t think that’s going to work. You won’t fit.”

“It’s okay. I’ll shimmy.”

She picked at her skirt and then said,

“If you promise to be honourable, you can sleep in my bed.”

He was so taken aback by the offer, that he just stood there and stared at her dumbly.

“Elain, that’s not necessary,” he protested weakly.

Fuck. He wanted to be in her bed. Very much so. Like he never wanted anything more than that.

“Well, I know it’s not, but…it’s okay with me,” she admitted.

“Of course I will be honourable,” he promised immediately.

It will be tough, but he wasn’t going to betray her trust no matter how much he wanted to touch her, and if his mind was currently in the gutter.

“Okay then,” she decided.

…He agonised over what to wear to bed–usually, he just wore his boxers, and sometimes, slept entirely naked, though he didn’t think that this was the time or the place. Should he wear a t-shirt? But that felt weird and dorky, with too much bare leg. Shorts only? Too forward?

He had no idea what the rules were, and finally, while Elain was in the bathroom, he just settled on shorts and that’s it. Most men slept like that? Right?

He was in bed, under the covers, when Elain emerged from the bathroom, and his breaths stalled in his chest when he saw her. Her long hair was loose, and she wore a pink cami and long pyjama pants.

“Are you still okay with this?” he inquired, just to make sure.

She nodded once and then slid under the blanket next to him.

“Is this strange?” she asked softly.

“Not for me,” he said simply.

“Oh good. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she exhaled a relieved sigh. “When you texted me yesterday,”

Cassian. Cassian texted you.

“I was worried about where you’d sleep,”

“But you said yes?” he pondered.

When he snuck a look at her, he saw that her cheeks were pink and she whispered,

“Well, yes.”

“So then why would I be uncomfortable?”

…Sometime in the night, Azriel found himself cradling Elain in his arms.

He spooned her, without meaning to, but somehow, in his sleep, he naturally drifted towards her. She was curled in her side, arms tucked into her chest, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. Her bare feet tangled with his legs, and once he settled in behind her, he didn’t move, burying his face atop of her head, and holding her tightly next to him.

He lay there for a few peaceful, calm moments, inhaling her scent and enjoying her softness before whispering “I will be gentle with your soul, if you let me in. I promise.”

The next time Azriel woke up was when he sensed light behind his eyelids and a light, tentative scraping of a little finger over his chest, his shoulders. He noticed the silky skin of her leg, which was slotted between his own legs, the toes sort of scratching and playing with his calf. Her finger kept tracing erratic patterns on his skin, and it finally dawned on him that she was following the design of his tattoos.

“Always wanted to do this,” he heard her whisper.

“What, exactly?” he asked. Feeling bold today, because clearly things have changed since last night, actually, ever since he came here, he added, “Wake up next to me in bed? Have me hold you in my arms through the night? Touch my tats?”

She didn't answer immediately and when he managed to open one eye and peer at her, he saw her gorgeous face and a vexed expression which wrinkled her forehead.

“What?” he pressed, reaching up and cupping her cheek in his palm.

“All of the above?” she said at last, looking up at him.

“Good. I’ve always wanted to do this,” he murmured then, and fuck all doubt and questions swirling in his head, because he was swooping down and pressing his mouth over hers. There was a tiny gasp of surprise and satisfaction when he licked over the puffy lips, learning their texture, before she parted them for him, without him even asking for permission. Offering him entry, she lightly licked on his tongue, as she wrapped her arm around his back and pressed him closer to her chest, the wonderfully ample tits smashing against him, the little nipples poking through her cami.

Azriel kissed her. And kissed her. Slow and sensual. Forceful and dominant. Gentle and exploring. Filthy and sexual. Every kiss in one kiss. And she happily, eagerly responded to every variation, often taking control and kissing him in her own manner.

The need for oxygen finally forced them apart, but only barely. He still placed slow, sensual kisses over her lips, her face, her ears, her hair.

“May I take you on a proper date?” he asked at last.

She giggled joyfully and tucked her face into his neck, vibrating with excitement next to him.

“I thought you’d never ask!”

“Better late than never,” he said sheepishly and kissed her again.

Azriel’s phone dinged with an incoming message.

The flight attendant announced on the intercom that they should be turning things off right about now, but he glanced at the message.

Elain: When you come visit in two weeks, I’ll have a place for you to sleep.

There was an image attached.

Her neat sofa in the living room, extended into a perfectly nice, large sofa bed.

He stared at the photo and then grinned.

Azriel: You are a bad, bad girl.

Elain: Some men need a little push in the right direction.

Azriel: Some men do. But too late

Elain: For what?

Azriel: From now on, I’ll be sleeping in your bed.

Elain: Please do.

#there was only one bed #my writing #elriel fanfiction #elriel #pro Elriel #elain x azriel #azriel and elain #Elain Archeron #Azriel #fluff

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years ago

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Speed and Stress: Part 2

Masterlist

Thank you to @acollectionofficsandshit for betaing, your comments on this one were unhinged gold

Word Count: 3.1k

Recommended Vibes: “Perfect Day” by Tundra Beats

Part 1

Your brother was late. Not that anyone was surprised.

“Got the time mixed up,” he says as you climb into his absurdly tall truck. Living in Texas for three years had turned him into somewhat of a country boy, though not enough that he forgot his upbringing. He was still a blue blooded Los Angeles boy, just with a love for trucks and longhorn cattle.

“At least I wasn’t waiting for an hour this time,” you say and sling your bag to the backseat. Deciding to get right to the good stuff, you clasp your hands together. “So! I have some news.”

Hunter grins at you. “You finally found a job?”

You roll your eyes and shoot him a pointed look. “No, dipshit. Better than that. I got us paddock passes for the whole weekend.”

“WHAT?” He jerks the wheel, horns honking at you as other drivers swerve. You grab the dash to steady yourself, laughing at his outburst. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get general admission tickets? How the hell did you get paddock passes?”

“May have met someone pretty high up at McLaren in Los Angeles,” you say, examining your nails.

“Like, Zak Brown? You met Zak Brown?” Hunter was such a fan boy, you had to laugh. His love for McLaren ran so deep he practically bled blue and orange. The only reason you watched the sport was because of him shoving it down your throat for years, but damn if you weren't glad for it.

“Daniel Ricciardo.”

Hunter choked on air but managed to stay in his lane this time. “And you waited until now to tell me?”

“I didn’t know it was him when I met him! He was on a motorcycle and I stopped to help film a tiktok and then-”

“Of course you’d stop,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You’re a sucker for bikes.”

“Yeah well, lucky that I am, cause all I had to do was flirt to get us those passes.”

Your intention had never been to take advantage of Daniel. It was more the opposite in fact; you were just living in the moment and capitalizing on the once in a lifetime opportunity to flirt with your celebrity crush. You had to admit, it turned out better than you'd ever thought it would.

“I can’t believe you seduced Daniel freakin’ Ricciardo,” he says, shaking his head. “You astound me.”

“I didn’t seduce him!” You protest.

"Sorry my bad. You charmed him. That sound better?"

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. I damn near had a heart attack when I figured out it was him but he was kind enough to let me brush it off."

"Well, thank god for your two-wheeled obsession because without it, we would be watching the prix from the nosebleeds."

You laugh and shake your head. Hunter tended to have a poor filter when he was excited and tended to spew whatever was on his mind. "Just watch your tongue this weekend, alright? I'd rather embarrass myself than have you do it for me."

Hunter gives a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

**********

You'd stuffed five different outfits in your bag in preparation for the grand prix weekend. In theory, it shouldn't be hard to decide what to wear. But Friday morning you changed clothes so many times you lost count. No matter what combination you tried you weren't satisfied.

Finally, you give up and settle on a McLaren polo and denim shorts. Simple and comfortable, but form fitting enough to catch Daniel's eye should you run into him.

You knew you shouldn't, but you pull out your phone to text him anyway.

Thanks again for the tickets. Let me know if you've got any free time so I can properly thank you!

You hit send before your brain has the chance to overanalyze the message. You check your phone obsessively the entire drive to the circuit, only half expecting a response. You tuck your phone in your pocket when you get to the gates, determined not to let it get to you. Daniel warned you he would be busy, and you knew that responding to you was likely on the low end of his list of priorities.

Hunter gets you to the circuit a half hour before they let fans in and you have to listen to him ramble about driver stats the entire time. Normally you don't mind; guessing who's most likely to win each Sunday is something of a competition in your household. But today, you couldn't focus enough to put any thought into your prediction, instead just blurting Daniel's name.

"You're only saying that cause he's into you," Hunter says, grinning savagely. "He struggles in Austin and you know it."

"So? He's in a McLaren this year. You saw his pace in Bahrain, and that was with a damaged floor! He'll podium for sure." You cross your arms and return his grin. "Besides, he's motivated."

"Oh, is he?"

"I told him I'd buy the winner of the United States grand prix a drink. Up to him whether it's him or Verstappen."

"Oh my god you have a date with Daniel Ricciardo?"

"Dude, chill out. It's not set in stone. Honestly, he's probably forgotten that I exist."

"Has he texted you?"

You glance down at your phone and are greeted with an empty inbox. "No. Not after the initial time so I could have his number." You shrug and pick an invisible piece of lint from your arm. "But he said he'd be too busy anyway."

"Guess we'll see once we get to will call, huh? If he's forgotten about you."

"Yeah." An odd feeling rolls through you. It feels a bit like nerves mixed with hope, but you stamp down on it. You were here to enjoy yourself. The trip of a lifetime had been handed to you on a golden platter and you were wont to let something as trivial as nervousness ruin it.

Bells chime as you step into the blissfully cool will call office. A blonde woman with a bit too much blush dusted on her cheeks greets you with a smile.

"What can I do for you?"

"Picking up some tickets that were left for me by a driver?" You try, unsure of the proper procedure. "I don't have a paper or anything."

She waves a hand in the air as if she expected as much. "All I need is your identification. They should be under the name."

"Oh uh, of course." You motion for Hunter to hand over your wallet and show the woman your driver's license.

"Great. Wait here and I'll grab those for you."

You drum your fingers on the desk while waiting for her to return. After what feels like ages she re-emerges empty handed.

"I'm not seeing anything here with your name on it," she says, her plastic smile at odds with her sincerity. "I'm afraid your tickets aren't valid until Sunday."

"Can you double check? Daniel said they'd be here-"

"So sorry. There's no record of anyone dropping tickets off for you."

You blink, holding your tongue in the face of her blunt response. "Okay. I guess ill try and get it sorted out."

Hunter breaks the tension. "Can't you call him?"

"I can't just call him, I'm sure he's busy."

"Either that or we don't get in. Just do it, he gave you his number and specifically told you to let him know if there were any problems, didn't he?"

Yes he had, but that didn't mean you wanted to disturb him. He was probably knees deep in some sort of race weekend press conference or drivers meeting and heaven forbid you interrupt. But it was either that or you slink home disappointed and empty handed.

"Fine," you grumble, pulling out your phone with deliberate slowness. Hunter crosses his arms and tips his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips.

"Well?"

"It's dialing, you good for nothing busybody-"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to call," Daniel answers, voice radiating sunshine.

You cut right to the chase, not giving yourself a single second to evaluate how your heart skips. "Look, I don't wanna distract you on a race weekend but I'm at will call and they're telling me they can't find any passes left for me."

"Let me guess," he starts, raising his voice to be heard over the pneumatic tools in the background, "You're dealing with Jenny?"

Your eyes fall to the name on the woman's lanyard. She shifts under your gaze like she knew exactly who you were on the phone with. "Yep. Spot on."

"Kinda figured she would be a problem. She's got a huge crush on me and does this every time."

You fight back the strange sensation his offhand comment brings to the surface. "Oh, really?"

"I'll be right there. Give me ten minutes or so."

"Oh you don't have to-"

"Hey, no big deal. I gotta go that way anyway."

"Uh, okay. See you soon?"

"Yup. On my way."

You hang up and stare down at the phone, stunned.

"Well?" Hunter asks.

"I guess he's coming here to sort it out himself."

He blinks rapidly and shakes his head. "Hold on. Are you telling me that I get to meet Daniel? Like right now?"

"Can you relax?" You laugh lightly. "Honestly you're gonna freak him out."

"Uh, yeah sure. No big deal, just meeting one of my favorite drivers in the minus five minutes and I'm completely unprepared. It's fine."

If you roll your eyes any harder they'd pop out of your head. "Relax. He's laid back, but I don't want you to freak out and embarrass us both."

"Excuse me," Jenny breaks in, her distaste clear. "Please move aside if you're not picking up passes."

"Er, yeah. Sorry." You shuffle awkwardly off to the side to wait. Cheesy elevator music plays and Jenny shoots you glares until the door squeaks open and the human incarnation of the sun steps inside. Your breathing stutters when the Australian shoots you a wink and a grin before sauntering up to the counter.

"Why hello there Jen," he says, and she giggles coyly.

"Hi Daniel." She lays a hand on his forearm, the touch light and flirty. "What can I help you with?"

Daniel leans into her, whispering conspiratorially. Whatever he says has her bold smile faltering, replaced by a mask of professional cheer. Daniel shoots you another wink as the woman retreats to a back room, returning moments later with your supposedly missing passes.

"Thank you," Daniel says sweetly, taking them from her and turning to you. "I think these are yours."

"Thanks." You take the passes and hand one off to your awestruck brother. You nudge him and he comes to his senses in time to shake the hand Daniel sticks out.

"You must be the brother," he says. "I see you're a fan."

Dressed head to toe in McLaren colors, there was no other conclusion for Daniel to draw. For once your brother is the one stunned into silence so you answer for him, "Yeah, only a little. He was crushed when you left Red Bull cause Max is his other favorite driver and now he has to split his loyalties between teams."

Dan's laugh snaps Hunter out of his trance. "I know you're busy but do you think you can sign something for me?"

"Of course. How about this?" Daniel snatches the hat from Hunter's head and produces a sharpie from his pocket, signing the brim with practiced efficiency.

"He'll be texting the group chat about that as soon as you're gone," you tell Daniel who laughs along with you.

Heat rises to your cheeks as Daniel's assessing gaze sweeps you from head to toe. "McLaren orange looks good on you."

Channeling his easy confidence you flash him a grin. "Not as good as it looks on you."

He smooths the hem of his soft shell jacket, smile turning bashful. "Anyway. I gotta run. See you Sunday after I win!"

Your eyes follow him as he jogs back through the paddock until he's swallowed by the crowd. You sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot. God, he was gorgeous. And he had such a big heart. It was a shame someone hadn't snatched him up yet, but then again, that meant you still had a shot, even if it was a slim one.

"So where exactly do these get us?" Hunter toys with the lanyard now placed around his neck. "It doesn't say."

"I'm guessing the McLaren lounge," you say and point to the logo on the passes. "Above the garage."

"That's the perfect vantage point for practice."

And it was the perfect view- before getting in the car Daniel walked out into the pit, suited up in his cobalt racesuit and minty helmet and glanced up. You weren't sure if he saw you or not when you waved but he gave a little salute nonetheless.

Hunter was practically glued to the bank of floor to ceiling windows for the entirety of free practice, immersing himself in the experience. You found yourself glancing at the timing tables every lap, silently hoping to see the RIC tag move up. By the end of the second session he had been fourth fastest, a few tenths behind both Mercedes and the Red Bull of Verstappen.

By the time you make it back to Hunter's house, you're both exhausted from a full day of running up and down the paddock. The pair of you had been determined to soak up every second of it, sneaking into whatever offices you could and stealing bites off the buffets and cups of coffee.

Saturday’s free practice and qualifying session pass in a blur of color. Daniel drags his McLaren up the ranks to qualify fourth, his best starting position so far this season. He had a decent shot at the podium- Bottas should be easy pickings and if Verstappen and Hamilton made any mistakes, Daniel might even have a shot at the win.

The excitement in the air is palpable as you both flash your badges and head back up the now familiar path to the McLaren lounge. An hour before lights out, the v6 engines rumble to life below. You venture out onto the balcony, watching and waiting for a glimpse of Daniel.

The Aussie does you one better by walking out, race suit on and helmet in hand. He chats animatedly with Michael before stopping and craning his neck upwards. Michael nudges him with his elbow but Dan ignores him, answering your tiny wave with a wink. He mimes taking a drink and you roll your eyes.

Dan throws his head back and laughs, audible over the cacophony below. He gives you one final salute before Michael drags him back into the garage.

Ten minutes later cars begin streaming out on track, Daniel taking the fourth grid place as his mechanics once again swarm him. Tire blankets are secured, keeping them warm and pliable ahead of the formation lap. Thirty seconds before the boys are released, they're peeled back off as everyone scrambles off the pavement. Verstappen leads them away down the 3.4 mile track for the formation lap. Dan does a few small power slides before taking his place on the second row.

One by one, the red lights illuminate and disappear quicker than your blink. Daniel gets away clean while Bottas stumbles out of the gate, leaving himself wide open for Daniel's overtake on his right side. Cheers erupt around you, your brother going so far as to lift you off your feet.

Maybe Dan had a shot at winning after all.

A nail-biting 38 laps pass without a change in the order of the top three. Finally, a mistake in Max's pit stop sees him return to track third, just behind Daniel. The McLaren driver puts up the fight of his life, late braking at every corner and defending his position for all he was worth. Lewis was twenty seconds ahead- he wouldn't be winning but he could defend his second place spot.

Lewis Hamilton, race winner for the seventh time at the Circuit of the Americas!

Daniel Ricciardo crosses the line second, Max Verstappen takes home that last podium step for Red Bull. An astonishing fifty six laps here today in Austin!

The box erupts around you, a roar of cheers making it impossible to hear what else Crofty and Brundle were saying. But it didn't matter as Daniel raises his fist when he swings back into parc ferme, jumping out to be congratulated by his team. It was his first podium for the papaya team and you can tell it means the world to them.

"Looks like you're taking Lewis out for a drink," your brother teases. "Told you he wouldn't win."

"He almost won," you counter. "But hey, I'm not above asking Lewis on a date. Could you imagine? I mean, he would never agree, but still. It would be a hell of a date."

If you crane your neck from the balcony, you can just barely see the podium. Everyone goes quiet for the anthems and erupts again when the champagne is sprayed. The McLaren team chant for a shoey, which Daniel obliges. He sits to unlace his mint green boot and pours champagne into it, drinking from the boot before passing it to Max who joins in on the fun.

Just as quickly as it began, the celebrations ebb. Daniel is the first to leave the podium which seems odd, given that the PR department surely wants his first big win for the team to be well documented.

Your phone buzzes a second layer. You fish it out of your pocket, a Cheshire grin splitting your face.

"Shouldn't you be busy celebrating?"

"I am," Dan starts, sounding breathless. You can barely hear him over the sound of the crowds chants behind him. "But I want to celebrate with you. I know I didn't win, but how about you let me buy you a drink instead?"

You barely hear anything beyond his first sentence. I want to celebrate with you. Were you dreaming? There was no way this was real.

"Um, I'm sorry, you want to celebrate by going out with me instead of your team?"

"If you'll let me. Hey- just text me okay? I can barely hear you over everyone screaming my name. It may be going to my head."

You laugh, drawing the attention of the vip's nearest you. You give an apologetic smile and move further from the crowd. "I'll text you an address. See you later, second place."

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #reader insert #my writing #speed and stress

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years ago

Text

Never Put Off Until Tomorrow

Prompts: Chores and Video Games

Word Count: 4,850

Characters: The squad + Pixal

Timeline: between seasons 11 and 12

Trigger Warnings: None

Summary: …what can be done today, yada, yada, yada, we all know the saying. So do the ninja- when Master Wu is drilling it into their heads every minute of every day, it’s kind of hard to forget.

Naturally, it only takes them a week (and the biggest new video game in Ninjago) to do so.

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“Get that gun out of his hand! Without it, he’ll be defenseless and we can take him down easily!” “I’m trying, Jay!” Lloyd said through gritted teeth. “One wrong move and he’ll get me with that thing!”

“Use your powers!” Jay raised his sword and dove at the enemy, forcing him to turn and face him. As their swords clashed with a loud clang of metal, Jay quickly pulled back as Lloyd shot a blast of power at the attacker, who promptly collapsed to the ground.

“Alright! Way to go, green ma- look out!”

Lloyd shrieked as someone suddenly jumped on him from behind, skewering a sword through his skull. The green ninja fell to the ground and vanished in a puff of smoke.

The ninja blinked at the scene before them, speechless.

Jay suddenly let out a whoop, leaning over to high-five Kai. “Way to go, bro! You’re so good at this game!” “He came out of nowhere,” Lloyd huffed, tossing his control to the ground. “He didn’t even give me a chance to fight back.”

Kai reclined, putting his hands behind his head. “Work smarter, not harder, green machine.”

Lloyd scowled, and Nya shot him a sympathetic glance. “Hey, Lloyd, you lasted a whole ten minutes longer than last time! You’ve drastically improved.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Kai winked. “Even Jay couldn’t beat me, I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Cole shook his head. “Dude, you’re unchecked! We’ve only had this game for a week and already, you’re insane. Let’s just say I’m very glad you’re on our team.”

“I’ll say,” Zane agreed. “The Critical Conquest Gaming Tournament is going to have some of the best gamers in Ninjago. You’re good, Kai- we all are- but we all need to be at the top of our game if we want a chance at winning.”

“We got this, guys,” Nya assured. “We’ve fought off serpentine, ghosts, the Overlord, Oni- winning a city-wide video game tournament should be a piece of cake.”

“Speaking of cake-”

“No cake,” Jay snapped at Cole. “Not until we’ve won this thing. I need you to practice.”

“Dude, chill, I’ve been practicing!”

“Then can you show me your double twist dash-melee maneuver?”

Cole blinked at him. “My what?”

“That’s what I thought. Here, let me show you. We’ll try until you’ve got it down.”

“Who put you in charge?”

“You did. Literally. You guys chose me to be the team captain for the competition.”

“Whatever.”

“Lloyd, come here, so he has someone to practice on.”

“Why me?” “Because you need to work on your stealth. Kai got that jump on you surprisingly easily. You’re a good fighter, Lloyd, but fighting doesn’t matter if your enemy kills you before you have the chance. Practice your stealth and dodging on Cole.”

“Ready to get your butt kicked, bud?” Cole reached his hands out, cracking his knuckles before picking up the controller.

“Ha! You wish. The only one who will be getting their butt kicked is-”

The sharp rapping of something against the floor interrupted him, and they turned to see Master Wu standing behind them, his gaze disapproving as he clutched his staff firmly in hand.

“Students, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Uhh, practicing for the Critical Conquest tournament?” Nya said. “I thought that was pretty obvious!”

Wu glared at her. “I know what you’re doing. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut all this short. The six of you have many chores to do.”

“Chores?” they cried in unison.

“The past week since you bought that game, you have done nothing but sit around on that couch and play it. In all that time, your chores have piled up. Now, I’m cutting you off. They need to be done, now.”

“But Master!” Jay pleaded. “The tournament starts in only a few hours!”

Master Wu smirked. “Well, I guess you better be fast, then.”

---

The ninja stared down at the alarmingly long list Master Wu had given them, no one speaking a word for nearly a solid minute.

“Why,” Kai groaned, “did we ever put all of these off?”

“Why didn’t Master Wu just let us wait one more day to do the chores?” Jay complained. “The tournament would be all over then!”

“Well, he didn’t,” Cole said. “So there’s no use in complaining. We might as well get started.”

“Alright, guys, if we’re going to get through all of this before the tournament starts, we’re gonna have to divide and conquer,” Nya said. “Let’s see. Zane, Lloyd, you guys take the kitchen. Jay, Cole, you can check the vehicles to make sure they’re operating properly- wait, scratch that, Cole doesn’t know shit about mechanics. Besides, putting you two alone together is never a good idea.”

“Hey!”

“Zane, you go with Jay on the machines. Cole, you’re with Lloyd. Kai and I will work outside on raking and fixing the training course.”

“Hey, no fair, you just gave yourself the easiest job!” Cole grumbled.

“I’ll inform you that raking leaves is very mundane!”

“Yeah!” Kai snapped. “Especially when it’s cold out like this. I’m gonna freeze my fingers off!”

“You’re the fire ninja, you’ll figure something out,” Nya snapped. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Hey, Cole? You think this is so easy? We can trade places! You wanna trade places?”

“Actually, I’ve decided to be nice and let you take this one.”

Kai glared at him. “You’re only saying that because you know I hate it!” Cole leaned back against the table, smirking. “Maybe.”

“Come on, Kai, we’re going.” Nya grabbed his hand and yanked him out the door.

“I guess we better get working,” Cole sighed. “Jay, Zane, you guys need a copy of your tasks?” Zane shook his head. “I’ve got the list committed to memory. And there’s a lot to do, so we better go.”

As they left the room, Cole turned to Lloyd. “Put a check mark or something by the things the others are doing, so we can see what’s left for us.”

Lloyd made little marks next to the tasks, his pencil slowing as it reached the end. His frown deepened. “I swear, this list is getting longer. Some of these are just ridiculous! Polish the counters? Clean out the oven? Dust the tops of the cabinets? Who does these things?”

“Normal people, Lloyd. It’s not my fault that we’re so busy saving the city that you’ve never done anything more than the most basic chores in your life.”

“I’ve done chores!” “Darkley’s doesn’t count, bud. I bet the only thing you did there was clean spiders out of your bed.”

“They were fire ants,” Lloyd grumbled.

Cole turned on him with wide eyes. “What?”

Lloyd stiffened, suddenly seeming to realize what he had just said. “Uh… I mean… don’t tell Kai, okay?”

Cole stared at him for a moment, before sighing. “I’ll let it go, this once. But only because you’ve had a lot worse things than fire ants since then. Those kids are jerks, though.”

“I know.”

“... They really did that?”

“Yes, Cole! Do I need to show the scars to prove it?”

“No! I was just- you know what, forget I even said anything. Let’s get to work. First up, doing the dishes.” They turned towards the sink, where dozens of dirty plates and cups had accumulated.

“Seriously? Doesn’t anyone ever clean off their dishes after eating?”

Cole shot him a look. “Name one time you did that.”

“Okay, so never, but we’re ninja, not dishwashers! What do you expect?”

“Never put off until tomorrow what can be done today, Lloyd.”

Lloyd groaned. “I can’t believe I’m missing Critical Conquest for this.”

---

“Jay! You’re supposed to be repairing the sentry cannons on the Land Bounty!” “Chill out, Zane, I’ll get to it in a minute-”

Zane suddenly snatched the remote control out of his hand. “Jay! We’re never going to finish in time for the tournament if you don’t focus! Stop playing with toys!” “It’s not a toy!” He gestured towards the small remote-controlled robot. “This thing is going to be a major distraction! It could make it or break it for us in battle!”

Zane eyed the robot skeptically. “This. Distract our enemies?”

“Well, I was going to make it into a smoke bomb, but someone kept pestering me!” “Look, Jay, this isn’t the time to work on your inventions. You can do that later. Right now, you need to fix the sentries.”

“I already looked at the sentries,” he whined. “They were completely fried in our last adventure. I have to rewire the whole thing.”

Zane blinked at him. “Isn’t… that kind of your job?”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard work! I don’t want to do it! I’ll take any other chore on your list.”

“Well, someone needs to do it, and you’re the only one who knows how.”

“Not true! Why don’t you ask Pixal?”

He gestured towards the nindriod, who was tinkering with what appeared to be a small metal box.

“Pixal,” he called, walking over to her, “do you know how to rewire the sentries?” “Yes, but I know for a fact that Jay does, too. I’m not doing it for you.”

“Aww, come on, Pix,” Jay groaned. “Why don’t you have to do anything while the rest of us are all working our butts off?”

She glanced wryly at Jay’s little robot, who was waving cheerfully at her. “I wouldn’t exactly call it that. But I’m not helping because I already did all my chores while the rest of you were playing video games.”

Jay went pink in the face, and even Zane felt himself avoiding Pixal’s gaze.

“Critical Conquest is very important,” Jay muttered.

“More important than making sure all our weapons are operational? Or restocking the medbay?”

“We can do those things any time! The competition is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

“Actually, there is another one next month-”

“Shut up, Zane. With our luck, we’ll probably be fighting evil nindroids or will be locked inside a different realm by that point, anyway.”

“I’m not helping you,” Pixal sniffed. “So I don’t know why you’re still here.”

Not taking Pixal’s… not-so-subtle hints, Jay leaned in towards her. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

Pixal eyed him warily. “... It’s a jetpack. I wanted to make something more compact in case I was in a situation where I couldn’t use the Samurai X suit.”

“That’s cool! Although, it might work better if you recalibrated the engines to-”

“Jay,” Pixal said sharply. “I know what I’m doing. Please go work on your chores.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “No one ever lets me have any fun.”

Zane shook his head, wandering over to the Earth Driller where he was working on replacing the paneling that had been damaged in the Oni incident.

He couldn’t have been doing so for more than fifteen minutes when the sound of a small explosion interrupted him.

Zane jerked to his feet, dashing over to where the sound had come from.

Jay had jumped back from Pixal’s jetpack, which was now black and smoking.

Of course it was.

“What happened?”

Jay scratched his head nervously. “Well, you see… I really didn’t want to work on those sentries, so when I noticed Pixal stepping out of the room for a moment…”

Zane sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you alright?”

Jay grinned. “Right as rain. Not even a scar like last time!”

“Okay, that’s good, now I feel less bad for saying this- what were you thinking?”

“I couldn’t help myself, Zane! She calibrated it all wrong!”

“Well, evidently, you were the one who did it wrong, seeing as it exploded within five minutes of you getting your hands on it.”

Jay jumped nearly a foot in the air. “Pixal! You’re back! Ah… um, I’m really sorry about your jetpack, I was only trying to…”

Pixal marched forward, snatching it off the floor. “It doesn’t matter, it’s done now.”

“I can fix it-”

“You’ve done quite enough,” Pixal snapped. “Why don’t you just go finish your chores now?”

“But-”

Pixal held up the burnt jetpack, shaking it lightly. “You owe me.”

“Fine,” Jay groaned. “I’ll rewire the stupid sentries.”

---

“If I have to rake one more pile of leaves, something is going to end up on fire.”

“Well, luckily for you, that was the last of them.” Nya set down her rake, rubbing her hands together. “Now we just have to dispose of the leaf bags.”

She and Kai glanced over towards the towering pile of leaf bags, and Kai groaned.

“It’s going to take forever to throw these all away!”

“Kai, the dumpster is just on the other side of the Monastery wall!”

“Yeah, but we can only carry a few bags at a time, and we’re going to have to make so many trips!”

“Well, unless you’ve got a better idea, we don’t have a choice.”

Kai paused, his eyes lighting up. “Wait-”

“No, Kai, we are not burning the leaves.”

“I wasn’t going to say that! Although… it’s not a half-bad idea…”

“Kai!” “Okay, okay, no burning! What I was going to say was, why don’t we just toss the bags over the wall and into the dumpster?”

Nya frowned. “We’d miss half of them and then have to go over there anyway and pick them all up.”

“No, we could do it like in Critical Conquest! Remember? The ground-bash move? This is just like that!”

“Kai, that’s just a video game. This is real life!” “Yeah, but wouldn’t it still work?”

Nya frowned, stepping forward and eyeing up the roof of the Monastery. “I suppose if we got the right angle… we’d have to make sure an ample amount of newtons were applied with each hit to reach the correct velocity… and of course we’d have to take into consideration factors like density and wind acceleration per second and its tendency to carry-”

“Okay, okay, enough with your science-y nerd stuff!”

“It’s just basic physics, Kai. I mean, there are a lot of external factors to consider that wouldn’t be present in a lab setting, although I still think it would be quite simple-”

“Would it work or not?” Kai interrupted. “Yes or no, I want a one-word answer.”

“Yes. We just need to get the proper positioning-”

“Can I be the one bashing the bags?”

Nya sighed. “Only if you do exactly as I tell you-”

“Whoooooo!” Kai cried, running off to grab the rake as he swung it around fiercely. “Who’s ready to bash some leaf bags?”

“Kai! I said to do exactly as I say-”

---

Despite Nya’s initial trepidations, the process did not end up being a total disaster, and they actually ended up getting the chore done decently quickly. Now all they had left to do was to test and recalibrate the training course.

Nya glanced down at her watch. Only an hour and a half until the tournament started. Her chances of getting extra practice on those tricky combos were looking slimmer by the second. Hopefully, Kai’s mastery of the game, Jay’s high skill levels, and Cole’s advanced items and power-ups would be enough to help them beat-

“Nya!” Kai shrieked. “I said, turn it off!”

Nya snapped out of her thoughts, glancing up at her brother, who had been knocked to the ground by a whirring training dummy. “Oh, shit!” She spun towards the controls and shut them down, jogging over to Kai. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so, I just-” Kai reached for her extended hand, pulling back with a sharp cry as they made contact.

“What?” “My hand,” he grimaced. “It hurts like hell.”

---

“You can’t throw out the Eggo Waffles!” Lloyd insisted, grabbing at the box in Cole’s hands

“Lloyd, they expired three days ago.”

“So what, they’re still edible.”

“They’re going.” Cole gave the box a strong tug, jerking it out of Lloyd’s hands and dropping it in the garbage. Lloyd huffed, crossing his arms.

“Kai would’ve let me keep them.”

“No, he wouldn’t have, because he doesn’t want you to get food poisoning.”

Lloyd paused for a moment, before amending, “Jay would’ve let me keep them.”

Cole sighed. “Yeah, and then you guys would’ve eaten them, and we would’ve ended up with two sick ninja.”

“I wouldn’t get sick! I have these super cool powers that protect me-”

“We don’t have any proof of that. We still don’t know exactly what your powers do.”

“Which means we can’t rule that out yet!”

Cole rubbed his head. “Out of all the people I could’ve gotten stuck cleaning out the freezer with… it had to be you. The one who gets emotionally attached to frozen waffles.”

“I am not emotionally attached-”

“Are you kidding me? He can’t play with this on! This thing is stiff, it seriously restricts his movement!” “It’s not a question, Jay, he needs to keep it on!”

“Is it actually that bad, though? Couldn’t he skip it for one game?”

“Not unless you want it to get worse!” Cole and Lloyd exchanged a glance and stepped out into the hallway, where the other four ninja were gathered.

“What’s going on?”

Zane opened his mouth to speak. “There was-”

“Kai!” Lloyd interrupted suddenly, darting over to him. “What happened to your hand?”

Cole blinked, realizing for the first time that Kai had a swathe of bandages wrapped around his hand.

Kai yelped in pain as Lloyd touched it, and the green ninja recoiled, his eyes widening in guilt. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!”

Nya rolled her eyes. “Don’t apologize, Lloyd, he’s fine. He’s just being a big baby about all of this.”

“Am not. It hurts!”

Zane stifled a sigh. “Kai, it is only a bad pulled muscle. Apart from being painful and needing plenty of rest, it’s nothing serious.”

“Well, you don’t know what it feels like,” Kai snapped. “It’s a lot worse than ‘nothing serious.’”

“I scanned you. I am quite certain my diagnosis is correct.”

Nya snickered, and Kai shot her a look. “Shut up, you. You’re the one who did this to me.”

“You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention!” “Yeah, well, you’re the one who was supposed to be-”

“Guys!” Jay cried. “Can’t you see we have more pressing matters at hand? Severe injury or not, Kai can’t play Critical Conquest like this. And he’s our best player!”

“Alright,” Lloyd said. “So we don’t have our best player anymore. That’s bad. But Jay’s still a beast! And Cole, and Nya, and everyone except me, basically-”

“He could be the worst player in all of existence and it still wouldn’t matter,” Cole pointed out. “We need six players to compete or they will disqualify us.”

“But if Kai can’t play, we have no one else! There are no backups!” Nya huffed, turning on Jay. “You’re our team captain! Why didn’t you prepare any backups?”

“Because we know no one else! We live in an isolated monastery at the top of the tallest mountain for miles, what did you expect? Besides, I wasn’t anticipating this to happen!” Zane frowned. “Well, if Kai can’t play, and we have no backup, then our only choice is to drop out-”

“Wait!” Jay cried suddenly. “I think I might have an idea of someone.”

---

“Please please please please-”

Pixal raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you really think begging is going to change my mind?”

“Please, Pixal, we need a sixth player, and you’re the only person I can think of!”

“Why would I help you after you blew up my jetpack?” Kai gaped at him. “You what?”

Jay fought back the heat spreading across his face. “That’s not important right now! Pixal, I promise I’ll fix it, just please compete with us!”

Pixal frowned at him, which wasn’t the most reassuring answer.

“C’mon Pix- I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t know, Jay-”

“We’ll do all your chores for the next month.”

“What?” “We will?”

“Jay, what the heck! We never agreed to that!”

Pixal smiled at him. “I would’ve accepted it if you offered a week, but that’s very generous of you.”

The others shot him smoldering glares, and Jay groaned. “It doesn’t matter, we don’t have time for this.” Glancing down at his phone, he sucked in his breath. “We’ve only got an hour until the tournament! Zane, can you teach Pixal how to play?”

Zane blinked at him. “In an hour?”

“Just cover the basics. We don’t have time for perfection. Just teach her as much as you can before the tournament starts.”

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as they were out of the room, Jay wheeled around, moaning. “We are so hooped! She doesn’t know how to play! Kai, how could you be careless enough to injure yourself?”

“Oh, sure, blame the victim!” Kai snapped. “Would it kill you to show a little sympathy to your injured teammate?”

“You pulled a muscle, you baby!” Nya groaned. “Pixal’s a fast learner, hopefully, she’ll get the hang of it.”

“Fast learner or not, nothing can beat hours of experience,” Lloyd said. “Let’s just hope the other contestants aren’t as good.”

---

“These dudes are insane!”

Jay continued to scroll through the queued-up players, examining their stats, his jaw dropping. “How much have these people been grinding?”

“So much for an easy win,” Lloyd grumbled.

Zane and Pixal walked into the room, holding their controllers. “I think I’ve done everything I can with Pixal. The competition starts in five minutes, I suggest we get ready.”

“Alright.” Jay turned towards Pixal as Zane worked on setting up the game. “We’re going to need your help, but since you don’t have experience, I think the best move is to have you stay behind us and play defense.”

Pixal smirked. “I’ll do my best.”

“Guys, we have to queue up!” “Are the headsets working?”

“They’re ready, what about the controllers? All charged?”

“We really shouldn’t be checking these kinds of things literally three minutes before the tournament, but yes, they are.”

“Hurry, guys! It’s about to start!”

Zane blinked at the screen. “Jay… you named our team the Fast Chickens?”

“It’s a good name!” The others groaned, and Jay glared at them. “We’ll see who’s complaining when we win this thing!”

Jay fidgeted through most of the opening speeches from the hosts of the competition as they went over rules and procedures. And, after what simultaneously felt like both a million years later and only the blink of an eye, the game was finally starting. They got lucky with their spawn point, and after a few minutes, were able to collect some good resources and get a good start. Cole, Zane, and Nya were able to take down some of the weaker groups before they collected supplies while Jay and the others continued collecting and building up defenses.

Checking the score count, he could see there were already twenty teams down in various parts of the map, and he knew his team had been responsible for felling three of them. Jay couldn’t stop himself from smiling. It seemed like nothing could be going better.

That is, until they suffered a major blow on the southwestern flank of their territory against a high-level team- the CrownViolets, they called themselves. (Which was nowhere near as cool sounding as the Fast Chickens, Jay totally wasn’t insecure about that at all.) After a fierce fight that ended up costing them several lives- and robbing Zane of his last, taking him out of the game- they realized they couldn’t win this fight and backed down, sacrificing a sizeable chunk of their turf.

While still monitoring that boundary, they decided to primarily focus on expanding in the other direction. Their tactic seemed to be working well, and although the CrownViolets kept on encroaching on them from the boundary, the other teams weren’t backing down, and although none managed to defeat the rival team, they were certainly taking their tolls on them. Jay hoped that the other teams would eventually take the Violets out for them, although he had to admit that would be extremely lucky.

They were getting down to the last few teams in the tournament. When the top ten were remaining, special, more deadly weapons were hidden around, and with them, teams began to fight back harder. The Fast Chickens held their own, but by the time they were down to two teams remaining- them and the CrownViolets- both Jay and Lloyd had been killed and eliminated. Only Cole, Nya, and Pixal remained. The CrownViolets still had four players left, but they were weak. If the ninja were strategic enough, they could still win this.

But Pixal was a major hindrance. She had been plenty good at holding back and defending them, but now, with so few left, she was going to have to start playing a more active role. If only Kai had still been there.

“Alright, they’re somewhere around here.” Nya’s character pulled up her radar. “There seems to be two of them right up ahead-”

“Alright, Pixal.” Jay leaned over her shoulder, coaching her. “You’re going to have to start getting offensive. Nya says there’s only two, so there shouldn’t be a problem, but there could be an ambush, or these two could have higher health. We don’t want to take any chances. While Nya and Cole rush them, you should stay back and shoot at them with your launchers. Your character has good accuracy scores.”

There was a flash of purple, and muffled shouting, and Nya froze. “There they are! Let’s get them, guys!”

The three plunged into the fight, and although it was a tough battle, their opponents were relatively low on health, and they ended up eliminating the two CrownViolets- unfortunately, with the loss of Nya before doing so.

“It’s just the two of us left, Pixal,” Cole said, “but there’s also only two of them, as well. We can do this. Just stick close to me. They’re around here somewhere.”

“And that somewhere is here!” Pixal shrieked suddenly, whirling around.

Cole’s eyes widened. “One of their teammates must’ve sent out a distress signal before they died!” He grappled for his weapon, but in his haste, his grip was sloppy.

Pixal, however, barely hesitated, diving at their opponent and attacking in a flurry of blows. Jay’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as she performed a complex combo it had taken him a full day to learn.

Zane smiled at all their gaping mouths. “I told you to have faith in her.”

Cole was evidently shocked too, and within a few moments, he was dead- although not before delivering a nearly fatal blow to his opponent. Pixal quickly finished him off before turning to face the last remaining player.

“Be careful, Pix,” Jay warned. “She still has pretty high health. Don’t get cocky, or take dumb risks.”

“Dumb risks are your thing,” Pixal corrected, not even batting an eye as she darted past her opponent, slashing her with her sword.

The CrownViolet wasn’t giving up, though. She pushed back, throwing down a smoke bomb and suddenly pushing Pixal down from behind. Pixal rolled out of the way, missing her sword by inches, and sprung up, taking the moment of surprise to her advantage to knock her opponent down. As the rival started crawling away, Pixal’s character took a potion, powering up a special move. The opponent knocked her down as she was waiting to power up, but before she could get a good attack in, Pixal was ready and was blasting her a beam of light.

The girl’s avatar fell to the ground, dead.

There was a beat of silence, then their living room erupted in cheers.

“Pixal! You did it! You won the game for us!”

“I can’t believe it! We actually won! Without Kai!”

“Hey,” Kai yelped. “That didn’t sound like it was meant to be a compliment.”

“What do you mean,” Lloyd said. “That was totally a super nice thing I just said about you.”

Kai narrowed his eyes. “A bit backhanded, don’t you think?”

“Guys, none of that is important!” Cole cried. “We won! Out of all the gamers in the city! We actually won!”

“But I have to know,” Jay insisted. “How did you get so good at the game?”

Pixal shrugged. “I guess you pick up a thing or two watching your team play a game obsessively for the past week.”

Jay blinked. “You’ve been watching us?”

She scowled. “I’ve been doing the chores in here, lightning brain! Repairs, laundry, picking up after you- you’ve just been too obsessed by your game to even notice me!”

“Oh, really? Uh, that’s my bad…”

“Speaking of which, you promised to do my chores, and I’m looking forward to a nice, relaxing evening off.”

“Did I?” Jay laughed nervously. “Hey, did I ever mention that the tournament winners get a cash prize-”

Pixal handed him a mop. “Nice try. Although I still expect my fair share of the earnings by the end of the week. Good luck.” The ninja just gazed at her in horror, and she laughed.

“You’re going to need it.”

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aster-aspera · 4 years ago

Text

Another drabble I wrote for my superhero AU, though this one turned out a lot longer than I expected.

masterlist for my superhero AU

Relationships: platonic/romantic DLAMP

CW: chronic pain, flare ups, some internalized ableism, mentions of Janus’s mom’s less than stellar parenting.

A/N: While this chapter vaguely draws on my experiences with my back and knees, I don’t have arthritis. I tried to do as much research as possible and hope I have managed to portray it correctly. If my depiction is in any way offensive or incorrect, please don’t hesitate to inform me and I will correct my mistakes or even delete this writing. Hope you enjoy <3

Janus woke up with that familiar hurt curled around his bones. He sighed wearily as he looked out the large stained glass windows. Rain was beating against the panes with a violent intensity.

Some days he wondered why he stayed here, wouldn’t it be better to just move to a nice sunny country where the sky didn’t seem to want to drown them? Who was he kidding, this city would never let him go, rain and his aching bones be damned.

He rolled over in bed a few times, hoping stubbornly the pain would allow him to sleep a little longer. It was way too early to even think about getting up, in his opinion. After a few more minutes of his body complaining and aching, he wearily dragged himself out of bed.

He fumbled around for his cane and slowly made his way to the kitchen. He popped a heat pad into the microwave and switched on the kettle. Fortunately, it was still filled with water, meaning he didn’t have to struggle with taps right now. Picking up the heating pad had been hard enough with his hands feeling like they had been run over by a steamroller.

Why did it have to be today of all days? It wasn’t like he’d had that many plans but he had been meaning to at least get some work done.

There was no way he’d be able to do much of anything today, merely the thought of typing made him cringe, let alone the thought of actually going outside.

When his heat pad was warm, he curled up on the couch in the most comfortable position he could find and resigned himself to a day spent watching mindless television.

Somewhere around ten, a call came in and Janus fumbled to answer it with his stiff and aching fingers.

“Damore,” He introduced curtly. If it was another bullshit telemarketer he was going to strangle someone. Once his body was halfway functioning again, of course.

“Hello Janus,” Logan’s voice filtered through the phone speakers, in the background he heard Roman yell something. “Yes, I’ll ask, now could you please be quiet,” Logan said, presumably to Roman.

Janus felt his lips quirk up into a smile despite himself.

“We were wondering if you would like to accompany us to Carntos forest, we were planning a hike.” The smile slipped off Janus's face. Of all days to have a flare up.

“As much as I would love to, I’m afraid I can’t come. Maybe some other day.” He tried not to sound too bitter.

“Oh,” Logan sounded disappointed “why not?”

Janus hesitated. Usually, he would just grasp at the nearest convenient lie, he could easily tell them he was busy with work. But, he’d been learning not to do that, to let them in, not to bury himself in lies and mystery.

“I’m not feeling too well today,” He eventually said, he didn’t feel like explaining his condition right now. His mother’s words still echoed in his head.

They wouldn’t think him weak, would they? They were good people. But after a lifetime of being told that he was faking it and to suck it up, he wasn’t exactly keen to share it with other people. He was supposed to be strong, a terrifying villain, not someone who could barely get out of bed some days.

He was shook out of his self deprecating thoughts by Logan. “Are you alright? Do we need to come over?” He asked, his voice filled with concern.

Janus felt emotion well up in his throat, not a lot of people held so much concern for him. He shook his head. Really? He was getting all teary eyed over some polite sympathy?

“No, I’m fine. I hope you enjoy your hike.” He pressed the end call button before Logan could say something else that would make him bawl like a baby.

He was just dozing off uncomfortably, when a knock on his door startled him.

Who was even…?

He got up painfully and limped to the door, leaning heavily on his cane. He grabbed the gun from its hiding place before opening the door. It never hurt to be cautious. When he opened it, he was greeted by four smiling faces.

“Hi,” Patton greeted cheerfully, “We brought soup.” He held up a large container.

In that eloquent way of his, Janus just stuttered out “What?”

Roman gently grabbed his shoulders and steered him back inside, putting the gun down on the table. The others followed, Virgil laden with a variety of food and Logan carrying some dvd’s. Patton made his way into the kitchen and started clattering around in the cabinets.

“We’re here to take care of you,” Roman explained as he sat Janus down on the couch. Then he abruptly drew back “It’s not contagious is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Janus said, distracted by Patton and Virgil doing god knows what in the kitchen and Logan heading towards his bedroom. They had all invaded his space with a swift efficiency.

“Great, so what’s wrong?” Roman asked, sitting down on the couch opposite him.

“It’s…” Janus’s mind was not cooperating right now. He tried to think of something.

“Dude, I’m literally a nurse, you can tell me.”

“I’d rather not.” Janus said, sounding a lot more defensive than he had meant. He was just slightly stressed out by these people barging into his house and Roman pestering him. He really wanted a nap and for today to be over.

Roman looked him over critically. “Fine, you don’t have to tell me, but we’re not leaving till you feel better.”

“Prepare to stay a while then,” Janus couldn’t help himself from laughing bitterly.

Roman’s eyebrows scrunched up adorably and then he smiled. “Well, that’s good, ‘cause Patton brought lots of food, so we can hang around for as long as needed.”

Janus curled his shoulders protectively. “You don’t have to.”

“But we want to.” Logan had appeared from the bedroom with an armful of blankets and was looking at Janus with such gentle and loving eyes and Janus had absolutely no idea how to deal with any of this. Why were they here? Why would they ditch their plans just to take care of him? Why did they even care?

Virgil and Patton came in too, carrying a tray laden with fresh buns, fruit, a bowl of soup and some tea. Janus’s stomach grumbled noisily. He’d only really eaten some crackers, as he didn’t have the energy to prepare anything more fancy than that.

“I don't know what you want to eat right now, so I’d thought I’d go with the classics for someone who’s sick but I have other stuff too, if you want.” Patton fretted.

“No, this is fine.” Janus replied.

He made to eat the soup then stopped abruptly. There was no way he could manage that, his hands were aching all the way from the tips of his fingers to his elbows and they were so stiff he could barely curl them around the spoon, let alone coordinate them enough to eat.

He suddenly felt very vulnerable, with all of them staring at him. He cleared his throat.

“I’m actually not really in the mood for soup.” He apologized and reached for the bread. That, at least he could eat without too much trouble.

“That’s fine, we just need to make sure you eat something. You’ll never get better if you starve yourself,” Patton replied cheerfully.

Janus cringed internally. They didn’t know, he couldn’t blame them for it, but god, did those words hurt. Always that same question: are you better yet?

“So, which movie do you want to watch?” Roman burst out, eager to get started on that.

“Maybe you should first ask him if he even wants to watch a movie, you idiot.” Virgil hissed.

“All right, no need to rain on the black parade, sunshine,” Roman defended.

Logan rolled his eyes.

“I’d love to watch a movie,” Janus said before the two could start a full blown argument.

The others settled into the couch and Janus barely suppressed a whimper when Logan jostled his legs. Wow, he was really pathetic today.

Despite his best efforts, Logan noticed his discomfort and looked at him, his eyebrows knitted in concern.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Janus immediately deflected, then when Logan’s eyebrows did not change their stance “It’s just… my knees hurt, so please be careful.”

“Oh, did you hurt them during patrol?” Patton asked.

“Patrol?”

“You fell off a roof?”

Oh, yeah, that had happened. His cheeks heated up in shame as Virgil tried to stifle a laugh. Jumping over rooftops was not his forte. The fall itself had probably looked a lot worse than it actually was, he had only vaguely scraped his elbows.

“Yeah, I remember. No it’s not that.”

“Really? It looked like a pretty bad fall, it would make sense that your knees hurt after something like that.”

Patton didn’t seem like he would let it go anytime soon. He was clearly worried about Janus. He sighed, it was going to come to light some day, better to bite the bullet now than to wait for when he would be forced to reveal it. He took a deep breath, oddly nervous. He shouldn’t be this worried, they cared for him, they were his friends, they had come all the way here to take care of him.

“I’m actually just having a bad flare up today.”

A beat of silence followed his statement and Janus tried not to panic. But Roman just nodded understandingly.

“You mind if I ask what…?”

“Rheumatoid arthritis, symptoms started when I was about seventeen.”

“You could have just told us, honey,” Patton exclaimed.

“I don’t always feel comfortable sharing it”

“Well, I’m happy you felt comfortable sharing it with us,” Virgil said.

“Yes, I’m happy you trust us with this knowledge, Janus.”

What was this annoying fuzzy feeling in his stomach? It was probably the tea, or maybe the buns, who knew what Patton put in those.

“Do you need anything?” Roman asked.

“Well, some more heat pads would be nice.”

“I'll get it.” Virgil got up.

“Does it jostle you too much when we sit on the couch?” Logan asked.

Janus hesitated, he was already bothering them so much, it really wasn’t polite to kick them off the couch too.

“Jan, sweety, please be honest with us, we don’t want to hurt you,” Patton pleaded.

“Yeah, it does.”

All of them happily moved to the floor, laying down some pillows and blankets so it was still comfortable. Virgil returned and passed him the heat pads.

“So, how long do these flare ups usually last?” Roman asked.

“Usually most of the day, sometimes longer.”

“Well, as Roman promised, we’re staying here as long as it lasts.”

“Yay! Slumber party,” Patton exclaimed.

“As long as you don’t throw any pillows at me,” Logan sighed, before promptly getting hit in the face by a pillow from Virgil. He looked at him with a look of utter betrayal.

Eventually, everyone got settled and they turned the movie back on. Janus tried his best to focus on the plot but soon found himself drifting off.

#janus sanders #ts janus #patton sanders #ts patton #logan sanders #ts logan #roman sanders #ts roman #virgil sanders #ts virgil #dlamp #romantic dlamp #tw pain #sander sides #sanders sides fic #superhero au #ts superhero au #my writing

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thebibliomancer · 3 years ago

Text

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #2: “BLANKING OUT!”

October, 1984

"Up Against the BLANK!”

Beware his crosshatching!

So the formation of the West Coast Avengers continues! I guess! It looks like Tigra, Wonder Man, and Iron Man stuck around at least long enough to be on this cover.

We’ll see if the prospect of being on a team led by Hawkeye manages to win them over.

So last time on West Coast Avengers: Hawkeye was sent by the Vision to create an All-New All-Different Avengers team on the West Coast. A kind of West Coast Avengers. Like the Avengers but in LA.

Vision sent out invites to Wonder Man, Tigra, and Rhodey Iron Man but didn’t tell them what they were being invited for. Leading to not only some hesitance to commit once they learned what was what but also Tigra’s friend the Shroud following her to the LA Avengers Compound because the vague invite worried Tigra’s other friend Jessica Drew. Phew.

The Shroud puts up such a great fight when the hypothetical West Coast Avengers attack him (assuming that some dude breaking in is up to something) that Hawkeye offers him the open spot on the team but Shroud turns it down.

By this point in the East Coast Avengers’ history, depending on where you count it starting, they either got punked by Loki or by a Space Phantom. So, the West Coast Avengers aren’t actually doing so bad, even though they’re not technically officially a team yet.

Its all a matter of perspective.

Huh. We’re like ten years too early for Iron Man to be trying to kill everyone.

To kinda spoil the game early, this is a training exercise.

Hawkeye is attempting to prove a point that Captain America told him “with the proper teamwork, even the strongest opponent can be beaten!”

It gets back to the Avengers’ whole Earth’s mightiest heroes banding together to fight the foes no single hero can overcome thing. It’s a sales pitch for why these reluctant West Coasts should Avenger.

And even given that Iron Man far outmuscles Hawkeye, Mockingbird, and Tigra, teamwork and skill does prove capable of bringing him down. Kinda.

Hawkeye uses some smokescreen arrows to try to cloud Iron Man’s vision but he has infrared lenses. He tries to tackle Tigra but she outmaneuvers him and jumps on his back. Distracting him so Mockingbird can bonk him in the head with her staves and Hawkeye can gum up Iron Man’s boot jets.

Its good teamwork but while Hawkeye is explaining that it’s good teamwork, Iron Man repulsors the ground and knocks the other three on their asses to demonstrate another important lesson.

Iron Man: “Never count your enemy out, until you’re sure he’s really out!”

Although. This WAS a training exercise.

While you raise a good point, Rhodey, surely you didn’t want them to break your armor or knock you out for a training exercise?

Anyway, after the exercise is over, Hawkeye tells Iron Man (James Rhodes) that it reminds him of when they used to go at it (back when Hawkeye was an accidental villain) and Rhodey Iron Man just awkwardly says that he’s glad they’re buds now. Because THIS IS EXACTLY WHY HE QUIT THE AVENGERS IN THE FIRST PLACE!

Having to awkwardly tip toe around not being the original guy!

But on the other hand, he liked working with the Avengers in Secret Wars, which made him reconsider the team thing. While he doesn’t want to lean on someone else’s reputation, he also doesn’t want to be treated like an amateur. So awkward it is.

Hawkeye tells Iron Man maybe don’t knock him on his ass so hard next time.

I do love Clint and Bobbi’s relationship. They’re delightful.

While Rhodey is rethinking his reluctance to Avenge, Tigra isn’t. This training exercise about how weaker heroes can team up to bring down a stronger opponent is not landing.

Tigra: I’ll bet Iron Man could have blown us away whenever he felt like it... He was probably just toying with us during the whole workout! I’m not anywhere near being in his league... Why did I let Hawkeye talk me into joining his new Avengers team?

There’s always one person on the Avengers whose whole thing is insecurity and the West Coast Avengers is practically full of them. Hawkeye, Wonder Man, Tigra have all served that role in the past. Mockingbird is worrying that she doesn’t belong.

I’d rather Tigra stuck with the insecurity rather than what she gets when West Coast Avengers gets an ongoing...

Anyway, over at Simon Williams, Wonder Stuntman’s house, he’s packing up his house to move to Avengers compound.

Since the house was prefab and pretty shoddily built, the whole wall swings up like a garage door so Simon can just pull all his possessions out and put them in a big crate.

Simon’s good stuntman pal Freddy asks if Simon is really going to go back to the superhero life.

Wonder Man: “Freddy, for good or bad, Wonder Man is what I am! It’s taken me awhile to become comfortable with that. But I finally have. And you know, I think being a stuntman these last few months helped! Doing stunt work day after day has really given me a sense of my own worth. You and the rest of the stunt crews helped me find a new life... I owe you a lot! But I also owe the Avengers! When Hawkeye offered me an active role in the Avengers new west coast expansion team, I surprised myself by signing on. I guess what I’m saying is that the Avengers is part of my life, too. And I found myself missing it more than I’d expected!”

Good for you, you waffling man. But you’d better be careful you don’t end up in a Hank Pym spiral where you bounce between your superhero and civilian lives and don’t find satisfaction in half assing either. Find yourself a good work life balance.

Anyway, Simon doesn’t plan to quit the stunt work. He’s going to try to juggle it and the Avengers.

Now that I’m not sure he’ll manage. Movies and super-heroics both have demanding schedules without set hours.

Simon and Freddy take a break to go buy more nails at the hardware store for Simon to hammer in with his bare hands. But on their way, they hear an alarm at the bank.

Crosshatch man from the cover is robbing the bank, just casually strolling out with a bag of money while bullets bounce off of him.

The Blank: “I have a gun too! And it doesn’t shoot blanks! Hah-haha-ha!!”

I’ve long held that the unspoken rule in comics book is that one of the first things someone shouts about you becomes your name.

Just ask poor Ben Grimm, the Thing.

So when a random person shouts that the bank robber is blank, the robber is like ‘huh, that’s catchy!’

Anyway, the robber confidently strolls out of the bank and right into Simon Wonder Man Williams.

The Blank shoots his gun at Simon and to his dismay finds out that he’s not the only one who bullets bounce off of.

Then Simon punches the guy twenty feet back INTO the bank.

The Blank woozily proclaims that Wonder Man can’t stop the Blank so Wonder Man just kinda picks him up and tucks him under arm. Although the Blank does manage to pistol whip the sunglasses right off of Simon’s face.

Doesn’t hurt him but it does freak everyone in the bank out.

Dunno if you remember but due to being reborn as an energy being, Simon’s eyes are red and full of kirby krackle. He can turn it off if he concentrates but he prefers to wear the glasses.

And while Simon is telling the people in the bank that there’s no need to panic on his account, the Blank slips right out of his grip and jumps through the window.

When Simon comes out to the street, he finds that the Blank has somehow managed to disappear into the crowd, despite being a screentone man.

Probably because the Blank just turned the effect off and pretended to be a Perfectly Normal Man on the Street.

Sneaky.

The guy returns to his apartment and yuks it up at the news report about him making a clean getaway, police baffled.

The Blank: “After a lifetime of bad breaks, Lady Luck has finally smiled on me! Hah-ha! And to think I owe it to lousy bus service...”

So this origin is a lot. And its amazing.

In the Blank’s flashback, he’s waiting at the bus stop for a late bus when an ex-employee of Stark International who quit when Stane took over the company shows up and starts complaining about the bus service. And then smoothly shifts to complaining about his old job.

Very annoyed scientist: “If it’s not one thing it’s another! But it’s no wonder the world’s in the shape it’s in... Not with the quality of management today! They’re idiots... all idiots!”

He tells this random guy he doesn’t know that when he quit, he took his newest invention with him.

Very annoyed scientist: “I put too much work into my brainchild to let that leech Stane get it! I’m going into business for myself!”

And then, as he’s boasting that he’ll be rich enough to buy and sell Stane in a year, the very annoyed scientist walks into the street without looking and gets hit by a car.

The very annoyed scientist’s briefcase lands right at the pre-Blank’s feet who definitely doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. So he took it home and after a few months figured out how to operate the invention: a slippery force-field.

Back in the present, he charges the force field belt up and then heads off after a big score. Not noticing a man shaped cloud of energy coming out of the charger pleading for more energy.

Huh.

Weird.

Over at Avengers Compound, the West Coast Avengers are assembled. Hawkeye has gotten the go-ahead of the LAPD to take this Blank case but Wonder Man insists that the Avengers can find him but he’s going to make the collar.

Yup, Simon has gotten a bug in his collar about letting the guy get away.

Wonder Man: “I had him in my hands, and he slipped right through them! What good am I to the Avengers if I can’t handle one gimmicky bank robber by myself?”

Hawkeye: “No good at all, if you worry more about personal performance than you do about how you work as part of this team! What do you want to do, search all of Greater L.A. on your own? That’s crazy!”

Geez, Wonder Man. That’s how gimmick criminals are supposed to work. Its not a gimmick if you beat it in the first encounter. The gimmick trips you up at the beginning of the story so you look like a smarty for figuring it out for the resolution.

The other Avengers chime in a plan divide the city into sections and each search that section. And whoever finds him will call the others.

Wonder Man admits that the plan makes a lot of sense and storms off in a fit of ‘WHAT A REASONABLE SUGGESTION, GOODNIGHT.’

Mockingbird: “Well, hotshot, you just weathered your first leadership crisis. Why the thoughtful look?”

Hawkeye: “I was just remembering how I used to be the one who always blew his stack. Honey, all of a sudden I feel old... real old!”

Hah!

You’ve wanted this for years Hawkeye. AND you’ve built up a lot of lets say debt with the universe by being a jerk about it at times.

Although, Wonder Man isn’t really a great Hawkeye. He’s pretty mellow most of the time. Of the people I expected to get a random obsession with a not very dangerous criminal, it wasn’t Wonder Man.

He has always had a streak of insecurity (which is the secret ingredient when making a Hawkeye) and not being able to stop this guy right when he was feeling good and ready to superhero again. A real situational case.

But Tigra is the one feeling the insecurity the hardest so I’m afraid you’ll need another character beat, Simon. Hothead is available.

So the West Coast Avengers split up and patrol different parts of the urban sprawl. Tigra lurks the rooftops of Chinatown, Iron Man scans the area around the Santa Monica Mountains, Hawkeye flies above the high-rises of Marina Del Rey on his skycycle, Mockingbird cruises L.A.’s freeways in her custom pink convertible, Wonder Man hangs out on the L.A. City Hall in the downtown searching by binoculars, and I learn what the different bits of L.A. are.

Productive night for everyone.

But over in Inglewood, the Blank prepares for his Big Job.

He’s going to heist a Wells Fargo armored car.

Wait, would an armored car be a bigger heist than robbing an actual bank??

And if you somehow got the idea that the Blank is a criminal mastermind, he’s not. The armored car guards spot him coming and just decide to take off when a screentoned man starts running at them.

The Blank shoots one of the guards so he doesn’t manage to lock the rear of the money car but the other guard is locked up tight in the front and refuses to stop even when the Blank is threatening to kill his partner.

Wow. Guess other people’s money is more important to the guy than his co-worker’s life.

Since the guy tells the Blank that he’s driving the armored car right to the nearest police station, the Blank just grabs as much money as he can carry. Then he jumps out the back and slides to a stop on his belly like a penguin.

What a useful force field.

But the Blank’s bad night gets worse because then Mockingbird, Hawkeye, and Iron Man all show up, alerted by the police report.

The Blank at least has a realistic view of his capabilities. In that he’s not the guy that thinks a simple gimmick will let him start taking over the world. He just wants to rob a few banks and armored cars. And he does not want to fight the Avengers!

Especially not Iron Man!

Iron Man’s armor has all kinds of stuff in it and he might figure out a way through the force field!

So the guy decides to tackle some gas pumps.

Which naturally causes an enormous fire.

Not a bad plan, really. The explosion will launch the Blank from the scene with the force field keeping him safe and the heroes will stop to save lives as heroes tend to do.

While Hawkeye and Mockingbird help the gas station employees away from the fire, Iron man picks up a dump truck full of sand and puts out the fire.

Wonder Man and Tigra arrive as he’s doing that and Hawkeye has to tell Simon that the Blank got away or exploded.

Simon actually takes it pretty chill, just betting that no way a tough customer like the Blank died in the explosion.

And he’s right. Although the guy isn’t really a tough customer.

Actually, he’s planning on skipping town.

Avengers heat is too much heat for him. Plus, yeah, the force field protected him from the explosion but he was blown three blocks away and the impact of landing knocked him silly for five minutes and he was terrified he’d be caught anyway. Plus, he lost all that sweet Wells Fargo money.

So he’s going to take the bank robbery money from the morning and move somewhere with fewer superheroes.

He’s just gonna charge the force field for the road and- whoa dang a whole ass man popped out of thin air.

And its Graviton??

What were you doing in thin air, Graviton?

The Blank assumes this guy - wearing a costume and a cape - why he’s gotta be a superhero! And he immediately surrenders! He’ll return the money, turn over the force field device, go to jail, just don’t make him deal with those Avengers again!

Graviton is like hey buddy, I’m not with the Avengers and if you’re skipping town because of them, don’t bother. “Help me, and you’ll never have to worry about Avengers again!”

Ruh roh.

Now Graviton is, historically, kind of a dingus considering he’s a mad scientist, but he is powerful enough that he soloed a pretty powerful Avengers roster which had Iron Man, Thor, Wonder Man, and Vision.

The West Coast Avengers has Iron Man and Wonder Man but also has the more street level Hawkeye, Mockingbird, and Tigra. They don’t have the do-anything bullshit of Scarlet Witch or Vision’s robot brain or Cap’s strategy. Or whatever esoteric power the wild card Avenger of the era has like Captain Marvel’s command of the electromagnetic spectrum, Starfox’s PLEASURE POWERS or Moondragon’s psychic powers.

If Graviton decides to set up in L.A., then the newly formed West Coast Avengers could be in big trouble.

Maybe even two issues worth of trouble!

... What? This is a miniseries! There’s only so much he’s going to be able to do in the time left!

Follow @essential-avengers because you want to see what happens next, probably? Also, like and reblog because you want to?

#Avengers #West Coast Avengers #the Blank #Hawkeye #Mockingbird #Tigra #Iron Man #James Rhodes #Wonder Man #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #the Blank is kind of cool as a low power low ambition kind of villain honestly

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se0kie · 5 years ago

Text

chapter 2: blue side marine conservation

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, eventual smut, ANGST (whoo boy)

greek gods au, poseidon!taehyung, marinebiologist!reader

tags/warnings: none!

summary: it’s difficult being a god. what with all the immortality, the decades bleeding into each other and losing every human being you come to care about. and he’s lived, or whatever it is gods do, for a very, very long time. he thinks he needs help but the fates are being the mysterious, useless hags they’ve always been. how can a conservatory and it’s passionate, fiery owner possibly help him. turns out Y/N is the only mortal he’s met who’s ready to challenge him head on. of course it’s not like she knows her new intern is the king of the sea, maker of horses, the earthshaker, poseidon himself after all.

previous <> next ; series masterlist

It’s been a while since Taehyung stepped foot in Asia, let alone South Korea. He’d been way too busy with the sulking and the important immortal stuff, you know?

Right now he was in, what he knew to be, Hamdeok beach.

The soft, white sand under his feet reminded him of the countless days he’d spent walking along the shores in his lifetime. The soft lull of the waves crashing into each other and the hum of people talking brought him unexpected peace and clarity.

He had underestimated the beauty of the mortal world. Olympus and his kingdom in the ocean, the only two places he really spent time at, were beautiful alright. But it always felt impersonal, something most immortal residences felt like.

Mortal grounds always held some sort of comfort, friendly relations and the bonds formed on earth graced the lands with such energy that it always felt like you were somewhere familiar.

Taehyung was pulled out of his observations as he once again reminded himself that he wasn’t here to mingle with humans or write poems about beaches (although he really, really wouldn’t mind doing the latter).

He shifted from one foot to the other as he yet again, for like the tenth time that hour, took in the exterior of the short and wide building.

It was a 3 storey structure with smooth, white walls. Thin, elegant waves of light and dark blue, about a foot or two high were painted all around the base of the building.

In smart, bold letters next to the door a plaque read ‘Blue Side Marine Conservation.’

He told himself, once again, “Just go in, idiot. What are you so nervous for? It’s not like a mortal can do anything to affect you.”

He sighed and then groaned. Saying out loud, “Don’t be like Hades, just get your butt in there. There’s nothing to be so anxious about!”

He stepped foward towards the white door, lifting his fist up to knock when the door opened suddenly, startling him as he let out a shriek much too high pitched to belong to a millenia old god.

The short woman that stood in front of him was wearing an expression fiery enough to melt the glaciers. Her brown hair was short and spiky and disheveled, falling into her big brown eyes.

“Are you Kim Taehyung?” she spoke with a tone that made him want to say no and run for the hills.

“Uh...yes? That would be me.” he squeaked. Eyes wide and only slightly scared.

This woman reminded him of Hera if she was 5’4 and less murderous. Actually no, scratch that, they both looked equal amounts murderous.

“Well Mister you’re an hour late. Where have you been dallying? It’s been the busiest morning we’ve had in four years and of all days you find exactly this one to be late?!” she shrieked, furious and red in the face.

The shock on Taehyung’s face would’ve been comical if only he wasn’t calculating if this woman was sane or entirely cuckoo. He finally found his voice to stammer out an unconvincing, “S-sorry?”

She rushed to say, “We’ve had sightings of green sea turtles that very well may be returning to shore for nesting. For the first time in 20 years they’ve come to this part of the continent and I need all hands on deck to make sure each and every turtle and it’s egg makes it back into the ocean safe and sound. You hear me, intern?!”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” Taehyung squeaked with a hasty salute in response to the overwhelming information, while the short woman’s face looked dangerously close to bursting with how red it had gotten.

She blew out a gush of air from her mouth to remove the strands of hair from her eyes as she took several calming breaths. She then looked up to him once again and surprisingly broke into the biggest, brightest smile the sea god had ever received.

She shook her head slowly as if admonishing herself and said, in a completely different air, “I’m so, so sorry. It’s just been extremely stressful and this is the most delicate project we’ve encountered since we opened and I took all my nervousness out on you.”

She looked so sincere and genuine and somehow she had taken Taehyung’s hands into her own while apologizing and, oh god why was his heart beating so fast??

“Oh no, it’s alright I understand.”

“No, really, I am sorry.”

“It’s okay, seriously. I get it, nestings are delicate processes and it’s pretty much a whole bunch of things to oversee. I totally get why you would freak out. You needed the intern on hand and I was late.” He said with a squeeze, “Don’t apologise.”

She smiled at him once again and Taehyung knew the colour of his face mirrored her’s.

She said, “Thank you, it’s my first opportunity to oversee any nesting. Let alone one of green sea turtles returning after so many years.”

Taehyung nodded in response as she stepped back into the building and gestured at him to follow her.

“It’s not really that impressive but uh, here it is. Blue Side Marine Conservation.” she said as spread her arms wide.

The interior was airy and white, what seemed to be the theme here. There were large potted plants decorating the corners, two short, grey sofas opposing each other with a glass topped coffee table between them.

A white and grey marble reception sat to the left with a young, bored looking boy resting his head on his arm as he blew a bubble.

His long, black hair falling into his face as he looked up at Taehyung and flashed him a smile, displaying his bunny teeth.

“Welcome to Blue Side, dude! I’m Jungkook.” he chirped at Taehyung from his seat as he offered him a lazy wave.

Taehyung returned his wave and answered, “I’m Taehyung, I’m supposed to be the new intern?”

“Oh yeah we’ve been expecting you, man. Welcome and whatnot.” Jungkook said. Taehyung nodded in response and turned away to look at the woman.

“So, yeah this is the ground floor. We have two more floors of labs and aquariums. Would you like a tour?” the girl said.

“Yeah sure, I’d love to look around uh...” he trailed off as he realised he still hadn’t gotten the girl’s name.

“Oh! Yeah, right, I’m Y/N! I’m- uh, We are looking forward to working with you.” she said with a smile.

“Y/N... Yes, me too.” he said softly., a smile etching onto his sharp fearures. “Can’t wait.”

taglist: @a-kookie-with-my-tae @btsxdoll

a/n: reminder that i’m not very well versed in marine science so i could be wrong in certain aspects. please remember that this is a work of fiction and inaccuracies will be present, i am trying my best to make it as realistic as possible so i appreciate any input you guys may have!

#btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts v #greek gods au #poseidon #bts fic #taehyungxreader #se0kie

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bakugoukatsuki-rising · 4 years ago

Note

Can you give me a angrily pining Bakugou with an oblivious Midoriya, sprinkled with some making out and a happy ending?Your writing is awesome, btw.

Your wish is my command! Also, thank you so much you’re so sweet I love you!!!!!!!

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

“Dude, Bakugo.”

The blond, who had been talking up until that moment, paused and scowled at the red head before him. Growling like an angry dog whose food had been touched, he barked in response.

“’The fuck? What!?”

Kirishima sighed while shaking his head.

“Bakugo, you’ve been talking about Deku for like...10 minutes straight. I get you don’t like him, but could you lighten up a bit?”

“AH!?” Small explosions burst from his palms, but Kirishima simply sighed again and got up from the lunch table, already used to the fiery boys attitude. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he got rid of his trash and approached Deku, who was sitting on the other side of the large food hall with Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki.

“Oh! Kirishima, hey!” Deku was the first to notice him, pausing before he could take another bite of his food.

“Listen dude, could you like...talk to Bakugo or something? I don’t know what’s going on, but he seems to have an issue with you.”

It was hard to decipher anything Bakugo had been going on about, truthfully. It was mainly mumbled incoherent cursing and badmouthing related to Deku, from what he could pick up. For the most part he tried not to feed into it, in hopes the rabid animal would settle down if he was ignored. Since that plan didn’t work, Kirishima decided it best to confront the green haired boy to get him to handle it.

An immediate look of confusion crossed Deku’s defined features, his emerald eyes shifting from Kirishima to just behind him and across the large building. Though he couldn’t see him well, Deku could tell just by the body language of the blond that he wasn’t very happy. It was of no surprise when Bakugo finally seemed to snap with a loud yell, popping off some explosions before storming outside. Deku and the rest of the table, along with Kirishima, sat in silence for a few moments. The rest of the students pausing for only a second before continuing with their light buzz of chatter.

“Maybe they didn’t have what he wanted to eat today.” Todoroki chimed in, Iida and Uraraka doing their best to stifle their giggles at the light comment. Deku knew a bit better than that though, and with a soft sigh, he stood from the table and passed his remaining food to Iida and Uraraka. “You guys can have the rest, I’ll go see what’s wrong with Kacchan.”

“Sorry about this Deku, I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s okay Kirishima, I’ll figure it out.”

Deku made his way outside after Bakugo, looking around to try and figure out where he could of gone. “Maybe to the dorms..” He muttered to himself as he started walking, jumping in surprise as a loud pop went off behind him.

“Where ya goin’, Deku?”

“OH! Ah, Kacchan! I was uh..looking..for you.” He squirmed a bit where he stood, unable to make eye contact for a few moments before finally raising his head and regretting it. There was, what seemed to be, pure hatred pouring out of the teen before him.

Bakugo sauntered menacingly over to the other, who was still fidgeting and trying to figure out what actions he should take as to not anger his friend any further.

“You got somethin’ you wanna say, shitty Deku?”

Little pops traveled along his fingertips as he raised a hand, and Deku wiped some of the sweat from his forehead before straighten his back to face the blond head on. They were only about a foot apart at this point.

“Kirishima told me you seemed angry, and that it had to do with me. I wanted to know if I did something to upset you.”

“AH!?” Bakugo cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head, lip raised as he snarled at Deku, but Deku was growing more comfortable now that he had been in the other’s presence for a few minutes. His main uneasiness always happened upon first interaction, but when he realized this was just Kacchan, the Kacchan he was so used to since childhood, he found it easy to relax and face him.

“Let’s..go somewhere else to talk, Kacchan.”

Deku didn’t wait for the hotheaded teen to speak before he took a step back and turned on his heel, heading in the direction of the dorms. Once there, and glad to find they were alone, he turned himself back around to face the other who had been growling and sputtering foul language the entire walk over. If they were going to talk, Deku felt he should respect Bakugo’s privacy and have them somewhere without others, since he knew it was hard for the blond to express himself in general, let alone in front of an audience.

“Fuckin’ Deku, you’re so goddamn annoyin’, ya know that? Why can’t you just mind your business!?” As he spoke, nearly shouting, he took steps forward until that distance was cut to less than a foot this time, their bodies nearly touching as Bakugo leaned down toward Deku’s face, continuing to snarl like a rabid dog.

“No one asked for your help, shitty Deku.”

“Kirishima did.”

Deku could see the anger rising in Bakugo’s face as blood rushed from the base of his neck up to his hairline, dying his pale skin a light pink hue. It had been a while since Bakugo had approached him this closely, and Deku found himself taking in little things he hadn’t noticed before. The wrinkles underlining those sharp crimson eyes, and the wrinkles were also highlighted by the bags under his eyes. They were large, deep grey half circles extending down about an inch or so. Deku wondered if he hadn’t been sleeping well, and he wondered if it had to do with him.

“If I did something Kacchan, you have to let me know. I can’t do anything about it if you just get mad.”

His voice was low, nearly a whisper, the other being so close to him was a bit overwhelming, and he could feel his heart beginning to quicken slightly.

He also noticed how Bakugo’s mouth looked, and how as he spoke or growled or snarled, his lips would bend and shift appropriately for the expression; fitting each emotion perfectly. Deku had never paid such close attention to those lips, but now that he was, he found himself a bit fixated. Bakugo caught on.

“DEKU!”

But before the teen could even react to the shout, he was thrown off by strong hands grabbing a hold of his shirt and yanking him forward. There was no time to process what had happened, but as his senses came together, he realized the situation. Their mouths had crashed together painfully, teeth scraping against sore lips as neither knew what they were doing. Deku grasped desperately to Bakugo as he struggled for breath and clarity.

The blond paid no mind, aggressively forcing the other’s mouth open with his tongue, dominating the unexplored space as his own. Their breaths were hot and fast, saliva dribbling down Deku’s chin as his body began to grow weak under the overwhelming pressure that was Bakugo. His cheeks were hot to the touch, rosy pink shining brightly as blood rushed underneath his skin. Bakugo had tore a bit of Deku’s lip with his teeth in the collision, his tongue tracing the wound like a hungry animal, lapping up the iron tasting crimson.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Bakugo shoved Deku back, raising a hand to his own mouth as he panted, eyes narrowed.

When Deku caught his breath and truly realized what had happened, he stumbled back a bit, emerald eyes wide and ...worried.

“K-Kacchan! W-..what was that!? Why would you..?” He could taste the blood now, running his tongue over his sore and swollen lip before wincing at the sharp sting it caused. The blond scoffed and shifted his gaze from Deku to the window that was nearest to them.

“I’ve been fuckin’ pissed lately, mostly at your dumbass, but I wanted to know why.” Wiping at his mouth, he turned his gaze back onto Deku, who was beyond confused at this point.

“You’ve been gettin’ ahead of yourself when you’re fightin’, you keep fuckin’ yourself up and you’re gonna end up dyin’.”

Slowly then Bakugo approached Deku and reached out a tentative hand, carefully placing it on the top of his head. With a bit more force, he ruffled those green locks, his usual sharp gaze had softened slightly.

“Don’t go where I can’t reach you, shitty Deku.”

None of this had clarified anything for the teen, but as Bakugo jolted in surprise at the sound of other people returning to the dorm, and quickly scrambled away from him to go yell at Kirishima for butting into business that wasn’t his, Deku found his heart beating with an unfamiliar heaviness.

The sting of his battered lip had been replaced by a soft tingling, the lingering feeling of Bakugo’s warmth radiating through him and causing him to steam up again in embarrassment. Iida, Todoroki and Uraraka all took notice.

“Oh! Deku, your lip! Are you okay?”

“Did Bakugo do that to you?”

“Bakugo-kun! Violence was unnecessary!”

“SHUT UP! I DIDN’T DO SHIT!”

All Deku could do was sheepishly smile, rubbing at the back of his head as he shook off the concerns of his friends. Tossing a passing glance at Bakugo as their moment together faded, he held onto the feeling the other teens actions left in his chest, and the last words he spoke.

Don’t go where I can’t reach you.

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

Anon, I wholeheartedly thank you for this prompt, this was so much fun to write. I really hope you enjoy it!

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lovesouroboros · 3 years ago

Text

It’s Frightening to Meet The Person We Could Have Become

Tonight I met the girl who I am nearly capable of being. She arose from within me, she pushed me toward the flame. For a brief time, I was vengeful - angry, inspired with rage. There was a flicker, a moment in which I did not recognise myself.

Earlier tonight, I wanted to hurt someone. Not anybody - somebody specific. I wanted to make him feel pain, I wanted him to feel frightened. I wanted him to hurt the way he’d hurt others, the way he’d hurt someone I knew. I wanted him to be scared, the way that she was scared.

I thought it unfair that those who’ve been hurt have to cower while their abusers run free. While they drink at the neighbourhood bar, laughing with friends - the ones who’ve they’ve bruised sit alone, in another, hopefully safer place. The ones that they’ve bruised are still hiding, afraid.

I’d looked for him for a week before now. A few people knew to call me if he was spotted. Soon enough, there he was : on the corner, as if he’d never left. When the dust settles, the monsters crawl back beneath our bed frames. No one dares to stop them. I thought I would.

The call came - I prepared. There was a plan. There were pills crushed to powder, stashed in a tiny ziplock I’d nestled within my purse. I changed clothes - swapped my stained jeans for an expensive mini skirt, name brand. I wanted to look valuable, like someone worth breaking. I put makeup on for the first time in weeks - blush, lipstick, mascara. Looking in the mirror, I thought, “I am ready to kill this man.”

I laughed, but it did not feel like a joke.

I bring my puppy, Scar, to the bar. It’s counterintuitive and premeditated - there is an image to create. “Dainty Damsel totes Dime Sized Dog, falls Head over Heels for Dreamy Drug Dude.”

In reality, I don’t wear heels. It’s good - he’s not as tall as I’d imagined. The table next to him is free, and I feel him watch me when I sit down. I make a spectacle of myself, aided by the passerby patrons who try to chat me up. Not now, I’m on a mission. Today, I’m going to kill a man.

I thought he’d be more bold. I move around a lot, I give him something to comment on - drawing in a notebook, coloured pencils splayed about. I feel him watching me, but he does not speak. I “drop” an orange pencil on the ground and wait for him to return it. He does, but he does not inquire more - it is an act of good grace, no openers to follow.

An acquaintance from the neighbourhood enters - an older man, Jacob. I smile when I see him, and he joins Drug Dude and their friends. I did not know they were acquainted, and I am glad to discover the fact - it is to my advantage. I continue to play manic pixie dream date in the corner until Jacob goes inside to the bar. I wait a minute, then follow.

“Who is that boy you’re with?”

He smiles.

“It’s a long story. I’ll join you in a moment, I need a whiskey first.”

I am intrigued, returning to my table. It isn’t common knowledge, what’s happened between the boy and my friend. In fact, it is Top Secret Info. So what’s the story, too long to express without a drink?

When I sit down, I notice the boy is leaving. We make eye contact, but my courage fails me for a beat. What am I to say?

“Stay, so I can drug you!”

But that isn’t the plan at all. It has to be him first, I need him to hold an illusion of power. I let him leave.

Jacob joins me, now nursing his whiskey. He begins to tell me the story. This boy, he’s just come out of a horrible relationship. Truly violent. (So it is known, there was violence). More than being beautiful, he is kind, and intelligent. Jacob thinks there is a sadness within him. He tells me that the boy does too many drugs, but when he is not wasted, he is a wonderful soul.

Jacob is confident that I am shy, that I am tail between my legs nervous about winning over the Dreamy Druggie. He tells me that he think I’d be good for him, because I am kind, and I don’t drink, and maybe someone loving like me is exactly what DD needs in this moment. I swallow my saliva.

“In any case, he’s gone now. I was too nervous to say hello.”

“I know where he’s gone, I can give you the name of the bar.”

I pause, something strikes me. The feeling passes.

“Would you go with me? I don’t want to do it alone. You could introduce us.”

Jacob smiles again. He is drunk, and happy to play Cupid. I suspect that he is also happy that I’ve placed my trust in him - we were not friends before tonight. He throws back his whiskey.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

The bar isn’t far, about a 5 minute walk from the last one. Still, we have time to chat - and I let Jacob do the talking. He’s a photographer, and he tells me that he wants to take photos for DD’s portfolio. He tells me that DD doesn’t think he is beautiful enough to model - objectively, this is untrue. Apparently he’s told Jacob that his “teeth aren’t nice enough” to have photos taken. Jacob’s solution? Don’t smile.

The new bar is loud. From wall to pavement it is crowded with drunk and sweaty college students chanting in unison about the football match. “Karim! KARIM! KARIIIIM!!” To be there is to be exhausted.

My puppy is scared - she is either too young or too old for this nonsense. I tell Jacob I’ll wait outside, lighting a cigarette and projecting an air of disinterest. He returns quickly, DD in tow. Showtime begins. I am nervous once more.

“Asha, I’d like to present you to a friend of mine. This is Wren. Wren, this is-”

“Asha,” he finishes. My name sounds funny coming out of his mouth - heavier. His eyes are big, like mine. He holds my gaze, and for a moment - I think he knows what I’m up to. Then -

“Enchanté.”

“Enchantée, à toi aussi.”

Jacob is smooth, busying himself with someone beside him without looking like he’s fucking off to give me time to run game. Whether his smoothness is appreciated or not is unapparent, for Wren does not seem to notice his departure.

“Do you live in the neighbourhood?”

Already he is trying to trap me, pre-strangulation analysis. Does whether I’m local play a factor in where he’ll choose to hurt me?

“Two blocks from here, and you?”

I already know where he lives, but it’s nice to ask.

“A bit further, near the bar we were at before. Do you remember me?”

Freeze.

“Have we met?”

“We haven’t, but I’ve seen you many times. I thought maybe you’d have seen me, too.”

Narcissist.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m sure I would have remembered you.”

It’s a cheap line, but it works - he smiles.

“You have nice teeth.”

I’ve seen the bite marks they leave.

“Thank you. Would you like a drink?”

I shake my head.

“I don’t drink, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like who I am when I drink.”

He pauses, studying my face. I don’t know where the words came from, they’re completely misaligned with my charade of innocence. Some part of me decided to offer its truth without consulting the rest, and I’m not sure which part of myself deserves a kick.

“I understand that. I don’t either, usually, but I’m not sure how to stop. It doesn’t make me feel better, but I already feel bad anyway.”

Now it’s my turn to pause. His words feel honest, and it disturbs me. My mother told me once that abusers will wear their vulnerability on their shirtsleeve, like a pin. This is how they keep the “poor me” narrative running, this is why we feel sorry for them rather than angry. I am in the process of reconstructing this knowledge into walls around me when he speaks again -

“What are you when you drink?”

What. Not who. What?

“Violent.”

“Yeah, me too. I don’t want to be, though. I want to be good for people.”

“Are you? Sometimes?”

He crouches down to sit crosslegged on the pavement. Immediately, Scar walks to join him, resting her head on his leg. Two against one, I join them on the ground.

“So?”

“I was thinking. It’s easier here. Yes, sometimes I am good for people. More often, some people are good for me. I try to learn from them, and it works sometimes.”

“What about when it doesn’t work?”

Wren winces, withdrawing his pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He pulls out two, offering the first to me. I accept, and he lights them both before speaking again. I inhale.

“Sometimes I’m too angry for anything to work. Except the people I’m angry with, they’re not around anymore. So the people who’ve stuck by me, they get my rage. It’s fucking backwards. I’m fucking backwards.”

I look up to the sky. It is night, but the sky isn’t fully dark - it never is. Light pollution shifts the black to blue, adding in a reddish tint. There are no stars to be seen.

“Why are you telling me this? Is this how you usually flirt?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m not flirting, I’m talking. Because I think you’ll understand me. You don’t need to flirt with people who understand you, there’s not a game to be played. Flirting is hiding. When I look at you, I see the same thing that I’m talking about in me. It’s in your eye, the left one : rage. But more than that, you are soft. I see you choosing to be soft. So I trust you, because for some people - it is not a choice. It is much more powerful to have the option to be wicked and choose not to be than to have been kindhearted all along. I am trying to choose that same power.”

“What stops you?”

“Exhaustion.”

I feel a sharp and sudden pain grip my chest, like a hornet sting to the heart. I reach my hand out without warning and grip his tightly.

I cannot explain what happens now, not properly. There are lights, flashes, a lifetime before me. My surroundings disappear. There is a chorus of memories that are not my own. I hear glass shattering and raised voices, I hear door slams. I taste blood in my mouth, my whole body aches. I feel drunk, distorted, disgusted, disgusting. There is a stained mattress, abandoned house, paint peeling. I feel myself making love to a woman, many women - my body is not my own, it is pale, it is Wren’s. I feel decades of tears rushing forward like a tsunami, pouring out of my eyes, filling up my mouth. I feel like I am being waterboarded with saline and screams, writhing and fighting to get out. Finally there is a climax, a tipping point - I manage to pull back, break free.

I am back on the street. Shaking, I look at my hands- they are my own once more. I look up to Wren and see his huge brown eyes, staring back at me. It occurs to me that I have just experienced every pain he’s ever suffered, and now I believe him to be deserving of love. It occurs to me that now, I think I may love him.

“Wren--”

He closes his eyes and places a hand up, stopping the rest of my words before they can meet the air. For a moment he is silent, pensive. Then, finally --

“Asha, did you come here to kill me?”

#tw: abuse #tw : domestic violence #creative writing #vigilante mode #nonfiction #creative nonfiction #essay #abuse #shadow work #magical realism #my writing #writing #writers of tumblr #short stories #short story #original writing #my fiction

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cheemerthelizard · 5 years ago

Note

What about a platonic reader x okuyasu where she’s dating josuke but is great friends with okuyasu and he also cares for her as a best friend. One day josuke has to attend some business with jotaro so he skips school, okuyasu and koichi are just hanging out when they hear her pleading to be left alone so they go ???? and when they find her she’s getting teased or harassed by some dude who has fought josuke before and okuyasu is all out to defend his friend, LOVE YOUR WRITING THANK YOUU🥰

I cannot BELIEVE how well this worked out for a sequel to one of my other fics (it is NOT required that you read it in order to understand what’s going on in this fic). Enjoy!

It had only been a month, but that month had felt like a lifetime. After Josuke defended you from the punks trying to steal your wallet and invited you out for ice cream with his friends, he told you all about the ‘Stands,’ as he called them. Turns out, those friends had Stands as well, but made sure not to leave you out of any conversation when you were around. And somehow, Josuke and you had developed feelings for one another in such a short time, and now you were dating. This month had been the best month of your entire life, and it didn’t look like the good times weren’t stopping anytime soon.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), I know I promised a date today,” Josuke said over the phone, “but Mr. Jotaro needs my help with a Stand user that’s been harming people in this town, and I have to go.”

“I understand,” you sighed. “I’ll be fine another day. Make sure this guy gets what he deserves!”

“Thanks for understanding,” Josuke told you. “Love you. I’ll take you somewhere nice tomorrow, promise.”

“Love you, too,” you answered. “See you tonight.”

You hung up, smiling to yourself. Maybe today you could go on a special date, one where you take yourself somewhere nice. Yes, that sounded good.

“Mom, I’m going out!” you called.

“Be back by dinner!” she replied.

And then you were off, opening the door and breathing in the fresh Morioh air. The day was all yours, and you didn’t know where to start.

“I should probably start with breakfast,” you said to yourself. “Get something nice, like pancakes. Then I should definitely splurge a little and go to the movies. No, no, I need to save something for Josuke to do with me tomorrow. Ah, what the heck, I’ll just watch a different movie! Then go to the arcade, that’s something fun I can do again with Josuke.”

While you were muttering and planning out your day, you accidentally bumped into some guys who were walking the opposite direction. “Oh, please excuse me!” you said. However, when you looked up, you saw some faces you never wanted to see again.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, runt,” the leader of the boys who tried to take your wallet just a month ago snapped. “You better be careful if you’re looking for a fight. I haven’t lost once.”

That was a lie, but you sure weren’t saying anything while you were alone. “R-right, sorry!” you stuttered, quickly walking away. Thank goodness they didn’t recognize you.

“Hold it.”

A chill went down your spine. You spoke too soon.

“Aren’t you that girl who we tried to take that wallet from a month ago?”

“I… I have n-no clue what you’re t-talking about,” you were frozen right where you were, bug-eyed, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“Do we believe her, boys?” the leader asked. The two grunts shook their heads.

“You can have my wallet, take it!” you cried. “Look, I even stuffed it with cash because I was planning on splurging today! It even has my credit card and driver’s license!”

“Oh, but it’s not your wallet we want,” the grunt smiled in a way that made you very uncomfortable. “We want revenge on Astro Boy, for shaming us. Obviously, we can’t beat him to a pulp, but we sure can do that to you.”

“N-now, hold on,” you laughed nervously, backing up as the boys got closer to you, holding your hands up in either defense or surrender, you weren’t sure which. “When Josuke finds out that you beat up his girlfriend, he’s not gonna be too happy with you. Better think twice about it.”

Oh, but they weren’t thinking twice. The leader locked your arms behind your back while the grunts swung punches on every part of your body.

“Maybe that Josuke guy will think twice before messing with us!” one of the grunts laughed.

“Stop!” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “Please, just take my wallet and leave!”

“But where’s the fun in that?” the second grunt sneered. “Have we done enough, boss?”

“Not even close,” the leader cackled. “Keep going!”

“Leave my friend alone!”

You knew that voice. It was Okuyasu’s. The boys turned to the sound, realizing someone found them out.

“Well?” Okuyasu asked. “Why aren’t you letting her go yet?”

“I don’t think you understand, runt,” the leader scowled, tossing you to the first guy and walking closer towards your friend. “We are the best gang in Morioh. Nobody takes us on, you know why? Because nobody can beat us in a fight.”

“Except for Josuke,” you blurted out, earning a hard punch to the eye from the punk holding you.

“That was only one guy, and he was cheating, anyway. Using some sort of special power. There’s no way you could take us on.” Before the leader said the last words, he got right up in Okuyasu’s face. “So, beat it.”

As the leader was walking back to you, signaling to his grunts to keep going, Okuyasu said, “Wait.”

The leader turned back. “What? You still think you can take us?”

“I do,” Okuyasu stated, “because I have a special power, too.”

The three boys scoffed.

“You can’t scare us just by telling us that,” the grunt holding you laughed. “You gotta prove it.”

“I’d… rather not do that,” Okuyasu muttered. “But if you make me, I will.”

“Aww, looks like someone was lying,” the other grunt mocked. “He better run back home before he gets beat up along with the girl.”

“Or maybe he’s scared,” the leader taunted. “He’s a scaredy-cat. He doesn’t want to fight us, so he pretends he has a ‘cool power.’ Come on, scaredy-cat. Show us.”

Suddenly, the leader slid forward towards Okuyasu, who grabbed him by his shirt and held him close.

“Don’t lay a hand on my best friend,” Okuyasu growled, “or I’ll scrape you away just like I did with the air that pulled you this way. Got it?”

The leader nodded, sweat dripping down his face.

“Then, scram!”

The boys did exactly as they were told, dropping you and running away.

“Oku...yasu…” you breathed heavily, limping towards your friend.

“No, no, no, don’t walk!” Okuyasu scraped away the air in front of you, and you teleported straight to him. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” you groaned.

“Does it hurt when I do this?”

“Ow! Ow! Yes.”

“Oh, you’re really beaten up. I need to get you to Josuke right now.”

“No, no,” you told him. “Josuke is dealing with a Stand user right now. He doesn’t need to worry about me.”

“But he does! Look at you!”

“If we go and find him now, I could distract him from the task at hand.”

“But I can’t bear to see you like this!” Okuyasu exclaimed. “Fine. If you really don’t want to see Josuke that bad, I’ll take care of you until he’s done with the Stand user.” He picked you up, and walked to his house while carrying you in his arms.

“Thank you, Okuyasu,” you smiled weakly. “I’m sure Josuke will understand.”

Sure, the road to a great day will always have some annoying bumps, but with your friends being as caring as they are, those bumps were a little easier to drive across.

#okuyasu #okuyasu nijimura #nijimura okuyasu #okuyasu x reader #diamond is unbreakable #jojo's bizarre adventure

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octoberobserver · 5 years ago

Note

35, whatever ship you want!

Hi @tinyarmedtrex 😊 ooh thanks so much! This, unsurprisingly, got away from me and became a lot bigger than I intended. Also unsurprisingly, I chose Reddie. Hope that’s okay. Enjoy!

35) An awkward kiss given after a first date:

I don’t know about you, but I’m feelin’ tiramisu

“Okay Rich, you think it over. Get back to me ASAP, though. Can’t keep HBO waiting,” Harry ‘Ace’ McIntyre grinned, clapping Richie Tozier hard on the shoulder as he stood up from the table.

“It was a pleasure, Eddie.”

Eddie Kaspbrak forced a smile onto his face.

“Back at ya, Harry.”

Steely, grey eyes flickered before a large, cold hand was covering his, squeezing tightly.

“Ace, Eddie please. Call me Ace.”

Eddie could feel Richie stifling a laugh (no doubt thinking about Ace Ventura, knowing him) from where he was practically plastered along his side, their thighs and shoulders pressed together as they sat at the restaurant table, staring up at the older man.

“Ace.”

The two friends watched for several beats as the tall, salt-and-pepper-haired executive turned on his heel and swanned out of the room towards the elevators.

“You think he bought it?”

Eddie tilted his head up at Richie, barely restraining his desire to roll his eyes.

“Hook, line and sinker, dude. Don’t think he was all too focussed on you anyway.”

Richie guffawed, taking a sip of his drink.

“I know, right? Who knew all I’d need to do to get him to stop relentlessly flirting with me was to bring you along to our business meeting?”

Eddie frowned at him, catching his eye, “Uh… you did, Rich. Isn’t that the whole reason you asked me in the first place?”

A beat passed. Two.

“Yeah, Eds,” Richie nodded, eyes lowering to the table, before draining his glass in one large gulp, “but your uh…your plan of pretending to be my boyfriend was the icing on the cake.”

He shrugged, gaze darting across the room to where Harry was entering the elevator, a smirk and small wave aimed their way as the doors closed.

“Still think it may just make ol’ Ace think he’s in for an Eds and Richie icecream sandwich, though.”

Eddie snorted into his own glass of chardonnay, side-eyeing the menu at his left elbow.

“No way I’d have a threesome with that Mark Harmon wannabe,” he grumbled along with his stomach, that took that moment to let out an embarrassingly loud growl.

Richie’s eyebrows shot up.

“Shit Eds, my bad. Forgot all you had was our liquid lunch. Let’s get some food into you before you start swooning like a Victorian maiden in the breeze.”

Eddie glared at him, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Don’t worry about my blood sugar, Trashmouth. You’re the one that eats like a hungover college student. Isn’t it about ramen o’clock for you?”

Which was how they ended up ordering actual dinner at the fancy hotel that Harry ‘Ace’ McIntyre insisted they stay at, overnight, all expenses paid on his company credit card. It was only mid-way through his smoked salmon that Eddie realised that Richie, at no point, made any move to leave his side and sit across from him.

Instead, he stayed practically attached at his hip, their elbows constantly bumping together as they reached for glasses and cutlery and eventually, the dessert menu.

“Hmm…tiramisu,” Richie muttered almost to himself, “the sexiest of desserts.”

Eddie stared at him.

“There are sexy desserts?”

Richie slowly lowered the menu, his already-large eyes practically bug-like as he gaped at Eddie.

“Uh, yeah Eds. Duh. Tiramasu, Death by Chocolate, Sex in a Pan, pretty much anything with strawberries—”

“Sex in a pan?”

Richie blinked.

“I saw it on Pinterest.”

“You’re on Pinterest?”

A flush crossed Richie’s cheeks as he clearly tried to backpedal, “Uh, some girl on Twitter sent me a link—”

“Don’t you have to have an account to see things on—”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feelin’ tiramisu.”

Eddie chuckled, “Isn’t that a Taylor Swift song?”

Richie’s mouth dropped open, clearly pleased his joke landed.

“Eds! Did you just get a pop culture reference? Didn’t know you had it in ya, buddy.”

Richie was practically scarlet now, flushed with amusement, alcohol and something else. Eddie was kinda obsessed with the descent of crimson down his face, neck and disappearing into the open top button of his very nice navy shirt that Bev had forced him into earlier that day.

His gaze lingered on Richie’s bobbing Adam’s apple for a second too long, missing Richie’s response.

“What?”

Eddie forced his eyes back up to safer areas.

“I uh…I said we could just share something if you want?”

Eddie was doing a little better with his germaphobia these days. Being Richie’s roommate for the last year probably had something to do with it. If anything was gonna help ease him out of a lifetime of habitual, borderline-obsessive cleanliness was watching Richie eat a giant, meatball calzone with his bare hands on the white, cloth couch that Eddie had picked out when he first moved in. His heart had raced every time Richie groaned after each bite, but now that Eddie thought on it, that may not have been just because of the abundance of spaghetti sauce that threatened the integrity of their furniture.

Because really, Eddie had never shied away from sharing space with even the messiest Richie. From sharing anything with any version of Richie, really. Pop rockets, hammocks and now…tiramisu. Eddie didn’t know why Richie had always been the exception to his many, many rules regarding things like germs and personal space—

Except, he did. He knew well enough.

Which was how he wasn’t as grossed out as he should have been when both his and Richie’s spoons dipped into the dessert over and over again, clattering together until there was only one bite left.

Richie made a sweeping movement with his empty spoon, eyes twinkling.

“Have at it, Eds. I’m stuffed.”

It was when Eddie had the final spoonful raised to his lips did he realise how close their faces were and how Richie had yet to look away from him.

He closed his mouth around the spoon, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched Richie’s eyes follow the movement, his Adam’s apple bobbing again.

Warmth pooled into Eddie’s abdomen.

He could only imagine what this must look like to any outsiders looking in.

It looks like you’re on a date, genius.

It felt like he was on a date too, if he was being honest.

“‘S good,” he mumbled as he let the spoon fall back down into the bowl, trying to ignore his thumping heartbeat.

The noise of the spoon clanking against the dish seemed to startle Richie, he jerking slightly in his chair, blinking rapidly, staring down at the tablecloth that he was bunching in his hands.

“Y-Yeah, it was good. Uh…you uh…want another drink?”

Eddie stared at Richie’s whitening knuckles, his brain buzzing.

“Actually I’m kinda tired. Can we head upstairs?”

Upstairs to their shared room with only one bed because Eddie had had the bright idea of him pretending to be Richie’s boyfriend to get ‘Ace’ McIntyre to stop sniffing around him like a cat in heat.

That wasn’t the only reason though, was it Kaspbrak?

The sudden screech of Richie pushing out of his chair jolted Eddie out of his spiral.

“Sure Eds, sounds good.”

He dropped a hefty tip on the table before grabbing his suit jacket and draping it over his shoulder. Eddie watched as Richie’s chest and waist expanded and constricted with the motion, the tight material of his shirt leaving little to the imagination.

“Lead the way, Tozier.”

His voice was a lot more croaky than he would have liked as he swallowed around the dry lump in his throat, but he ignored it as he stood up and grabbed his own jacket, forcing his eyes to focus on the safe spot between Richie’s shoulder blades and not letting them drift lower while he followed him out of the restaurant towards the elevators.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, or in Eddie’s case, shoulder to upper arm, (Richie’s gangly height never failing to irritate him and…something else entirely sometimes) as Richie bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting for the doors to open.

“I’m proud of you, Rich.”

He didn’t plan on saying it, but did anyway.

Richie had come so far since he came out, live on stage last year. He had weathered the media storm post-coming-out, dealt with the backlash from shitty former-fans, opened up his home to Eddie who was freshly-divorced and recuperating from an actual-death-experience, written an emmy-nominated-and-favourite-to-win standup and was now working on developing his own comedy/drama for HBO alongside Bill.

Eddie was beyond proud of him.

He was just never the one good with words.

“Thanks, Eds.”

Their gazes met just as the elevator doors opened.

Judging by his misty eyes, Richie didn’t need much more than that from Eddie.

The ride up fifteen floors seemed to last forever and no time at all as they shared nothing but mingled breaths in the small space, their arms pressed against each other. Something thrummed in Eddie’s veins, an energy, a spark flooding his system with adrenaline as he felt on the precipice of something that they had been on for a long time. A knife-edge of potential with a seemingly endless drop.

It was terrifying.

And exhilarating.

And the most alive Eddie Kaspbrak had felt in a long, long time.

The doors opened with a jolt, snapping him from his reverie as he followed Richie down the hallway, fighting to catch his breath, not sure whether to curse the multiple glasses of wine he had or thank them. His eyes sought the strong line of Richie’s shoulder blades, biting his lip as he admired the expanse of Richie’s back as he walked.

They arrived at the door so abruptly that Eddie bumped up against that back, his face pressing into the shirt that smelled amazing. Something woodsy and sharp but not overwhelming. It was a smell he was familiar with, having shared a home with Richie all this time, but having it this close, this strong, was something else entirely.

“Whoa, where’s the fire Eds?” Richie joked, but sounded rather winded as he began shuffling, clearly looking for something as Eddie forced himself to right his footing, leaning away from him a little, but not much.

As Richie continued to struggle with his suit jacket, Eddie’s hand reached out almost unbeknownst to him to rest on Richie’s breast-pocket, fingers deftly reaching in and pulling out the keycard, holding it up pointedly.

“Looking for this?” he asked far too breathlessly as he took in just how close they were standing, crowded against the door in the dim-light of the hotel hallway.

“Uh…yeah,” Richie mumbled, expression enigmatic as he reached out to take the key, their hands brushing.

Eddie stares at their fingers, quiet words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

“You know, if this was a real date, this is probably where you’d kiss me goodnight.”

What the fuck, Kaspbrak?!

Richie gasped, eyebrows climbing up his forehead.

“Eds what—”

Eddie surged up, gripping the back of Richie’s neck and pulling him down, sealing his lips with his.

It wasn’t fireworks or explosions or any of Hollywood-esque bullshit.

It was…awkward. Mostly.

Mainly because Richie was frozen on the spot, one arm glued to his side, the other still clenching his hand and Eddie highly aware of a laser-focussed gaze zeroed in on them.

“Wow, someone is in for a fun night, huh boys?” a familiar voice asked, creepily smug.

Eddie pulled away, heaving a breath, his hand falling from Richie’s neck to grip the front of his shirt.

“Harr—Ace, uh sorry. Didn’t see ya there.”

He did, though.

Eddie had spotted him coming towards them just as the words ‘kiss me goodnight’ left his mouth and his tipsy brain decided that actually kissing Richie would be an okay cover for what the executive may have overheard.

“A-Ace,” Richie rasped, looking as shell-shocked as Eddie felt as he turned to the older man.

“Thanks again for e-everything. Looking forward to hearing from you. Goodnight!”

With that, he tugged Eddie’s hand toward the electric lock, clicking the door open and pulling Eddie haphazardly over the threshold, slamming the door behind them.

Eddie blinked up at him, their hands still joined.

“Uh, that was kinda rude, Rich—”

“If I didn’t drag your sexy little ass in here, he’d be following us, thanks to your… show,” Richie cut across him, eyes wild, his arms flailing, dropping Eddie’s hand like a stone.

Eddie covered his disappointment by raking it through his hair, not caring that it was likely sticking up in all angles now.

He was mid-swipe through his locks when Richie’s words caught up to him.

“Sexy?”

Richie’s attention snapped from the door back to him.

“Huh?”

Heat flooded Eddie’s cheeks as he cleared his throat.

“You uh…you called me sexy. Or, my ass anyway.”

Richie looked as if Eddie had just slapped him.

“Eds—I—that’s what you choose to focus on? Not the fact that an exec wants to engage in a little unholy trinity with us? Of course you’re fucking sexy, Eddie, are you kidding? You have to know tha—”

“Yeah, I really don’t,” he cut across him with his patented karate chop, insecurity beginning to creep into his veins.

What the fuck were you thinking, dumbass? It wasn’t a real date, you’re not real boyfr—

“You’re…you’re gorgeous Eddie, fuck.”

The words were wrenched from deep in Richie’s chest, as if it pained him to say them. His face, always full of a myriad of expressions, was no less of a silent story now.

It seemed like a whole other confession.

And maybe it was.

Warmth pooled in Eddie’s stomach as he stepped as he stepped closer and closer to Richie until his back hit the door.

It was up close like this that he could properly see just how affected Richie was after their little performance, his breath ragged, his skin flushed, his pupils dilated.

Holy shit.

“You…you’re sexy too by the way,” he admitted, his head spinning with the truth, “Bev is an angel for that suit, fuck Richie ,” he gasped, reaching out to clasp the collar of his shirt.

“I…I really wanna make a ‘buy a guy dinner first’ joke but uh…guess Ace has us beat,” Richie mumbled, looking awestruck as he slowly, tentatively ran his hand down Eddie’s forearm, feather-light.

“Pity he won’t reap the rewards,” Eddie tried to grin, failing to suppress a shiver as their skin met.

Richie leaned down until their mouths were barely an inch apart.

“And what rewards would that—”

Eddie shoved him back against the door with a thump, leaning up and crashing his lips against his.

This kiss was anything but awkward. It was fire and light and energy and…overwhelmingly right. Richie was ready for it this time, kissing back wholeheartedly, one hand clutching Eddie’s hip and the other winding around his back, pulling him flush against him.

Eddie groaned as Richie’s tongue brushed along the seam of his bottom lip, deepening the kiss and causing a bolt of arousal to shoot through him.

They broke for air, Eddie gasping against his lips, “J-Jesus Rich, you learn to kiss like that on Pinterest too?”

Richie laughed, his eyes still closed as he leaned down to rest his forehead against Eddie’s.

“Nah. Just a lot of articles on how to seduce your best friend and lifelong crush.”

Warmth spread throughout Eddie’s chest, his throat tightening with emotion.

I love you too, dumbass.

They had a lot to discuss. More words to exchange than either of them had the emotional capacity to communicate right now, so Eddie fell back on their routine. For now.

Tomorrow was another day.

“And what…what was the first step? Tiramisu?”

Richie’s eyes blinked open, shining bright in the semi-darkness.

“I told you, Eds. It is the sexiest dessert.”

Eddie chuckled, rolling his eyes as he pulled him back down.

“I’m not so sure. I can think of something sexier.”

Read on ao3 here

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #prompt #also posted to ao3

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thejacketandthehook · 4 years ago

Text

The Art of Pretending 4/?

Title: The Art of Pretending 4/?

Author: thejacketandthehook (aka everystareverywhere)

Summary: Killian Jones needs a family and needs one now. In order to impress his boss, Killian hires a single mother and her son to pretend to be his wife and son for the weekend. Nothing can go wrong, right?

Rating: Teen (for language)

Words: 13,479

Author’s Notes: Hello all! Here is my submission for the @captainswanmoviemarathon! This is based off of the Lifetime movie, “Borrowed Hearts,” starring Eric McCormack and Roma Downey. The movie came out in 1997, and I consider it to be one of the first made-for-tv Christmas movies.

A couple of years ago I was watching it and thought this would be a fantastic scenario for our favorite Captain and Savior. I wrote it and then stopped, and then started it again, only to stop again. When I saw this movie marathon, I knew instantly this was the movie I wanted to do and I wanted to make sure that I finished it this time.

I hope you enjoy it!

A30

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

TWO YEARS AGO

Emma laughed heartily. “No, no, no, please, Mary Margaret, please tell me you didn’t say that!”

Her best friend was laughing so hard, that she had one hand on Emma’s arm and the other on the table. “I did, Emma. I did –Oh! David’s face turned so red!”

“You threaten three guys that looked like Vikings!” Emma laughed harder. She wasn’t sure if it was the story that was so funny, or the fact that she had three glasses of rum and coke that just made the story funny. “I’m sure David saw his life flash before his eyes!”

Mary Margaret took a deep breath, trying to control her laughter. Some giggles still came through as she said, “But I told you, I’m an excellent marks—mark—marksmmm—I can hit something really well.”

Her four glasses of margaritas were certainly making it harder for Mary Margaret to get her words out, but Emma laughed anyway.

She looked down at her phone and when she noticed that Neal called again, she groaned.

“Neal?” Mary Margaret asked as she raised her (fifth) glass of margarita up to her lips.

“Yeah. Guy can’t take a hint.” I don't want to talk to him."

“Maybe you should just…I don’t know? Ignore him?” she asked in such a way that she wasn’t suggesting it.

Emma sighed. “I wish I could, but--”

“But Henry, yeah." She sobered up before asking, "I thought things were getting better, yeah? Like, I thought you kind of liked him again.”

“I did. But—”

Mary Margaret reached out and grabbed Emma’s bicep. She opened her mouth to say something, looking dead into Emma’s eyes, when she squeezed the bicep again and looked down at it. “God, girl, when do you work out? You’re toned as hell.”

“I’ve got a demanding job and a six-year-old. I work out to relieve stress.”

Mary Margaret let go of Emma’s arm before raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t Neal supposed to help relieve stress too? Or someone else, at least.” she asked with a suggestive wink. Or, at least that’s what she was going for, but it was more like a blink.

“You’d think,” Emma snorted. “I don’t even know the last time I got any ”

“And you’ve haven’t even been married for ten years for that to fizzle out.” Mary Margaret was certainly more direct when she some liberations in her. “I take it there is no spark any more.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Sparks are from Romance novels, and movies made in the 2000s. Nobody has sparks.”

“David and I have sparks.”

“You and David are in another category that no one else will ever live up to.”

Mary Margaret shook her head, and Emma knew that she was going to give her some hope speech that, in all honestly, Emma probably heard about three hundred times already. Before she could fully launch into her speech, Emma grabbed her bag from the table and told her best friend she needed the bathroom.

She walked (more like stumbled) towards through the bar, excusing herself when she bumped into someone and shook her head as she thought about her best friend and her husband. Another category, indeed. Mary Margaret and David made falling in love (and staying in love) look so easy. And while life for Emma Swan hasn’t been easy, love has been even worse.

Just thinking about Neal made Emma so mad she was seeing red. Her thoughts on Neal and how much she currently hated him consuming her, that she stumbled once more into the bathroom door. Only it opened as she fell and a pair of strong arms grabbed her around her waist.

“Aye, watch it love,” said a voice she wasn’t sure she actually heard before. Mainly because it sounded like music to her ears, but also because whoever this man was spoke with an English accent. Kind of like the Tenth Doctor, from Doctor Who. That kind of accent.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she gathered herself. Once she was standing up (semi) straight, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and almost gagged on her spit. For standing in front of her, leaning down just a tad so he was able to look in the eye with no difficulties, was a movie star.

Okay, not really a movie star, but one that certainly looked like he should have been on the main guy in a rom-com. With piercing blue eyes, dark hair, and a five o’clock shadow she was sure would be rough to the touch, he might as well have just walked off of a set.

Emma hadn’t seen herself in a while, but she knew that her mascara was probably rubbed all over her eyes, and some of her make-up was in need of a touch up. She’d count herself lucky if her long blonde hair actually looked good, instead of looking like it needed a good brushing (like it usually did by this point in a night).

“Well, well, well,” the man smiled down at Emma, and Holy. Shit. Seriously, where did this guy come from? “What do we have here?”

“A girl who needs the bathroom,” she insisted.

The man’s smile turned more into a grin. “Of course. What kind of gentleman would I be if I blocked the lady from her destination?”

He didn’t move, and Emma wasn’t steady enough on her feet to push him. “Dude, let me pass.”

He shook his head a little, as though he was lost in thought, and said, “Right. Of course,” and step aside.

Emma walked towards the door and as she went to close it, realized he was still standing there. “What? Are you going to protect me from any dragons?”

He laughed. “Dragons? Lass, what kind of bar do you think this is?”

“Well, you never really know,” she retaliated. “Some dude might be standing in front of the bathroom so he could try to flirt with someone who needs to pee.”

He laughed, and Emma swore she heard bells ringing. “I believe that, yes.”

Who is this guy, Emma thought to herself. She shook her head as she closed the door. A part of her hoped the guy would still be there when she opened it, while the other part of her hoped he was long gone. She didn’t know which side was winning.

When she was finished and opened the door with a paper towel, sure enough the guy was still standing there.

“My hero,” she joked as she took a step into the hallway, holding onto the wall for good measure.

He grinned again, and Emma wished her heart didn’t pound at the sight. Good Lord, this man just grins at her and her heart beats faster than when Neal actually touched her.

“I’m a gentleman,” he retorts.

Emma chuckles. “Sure. Right. A gentleman.”

His grin falters as he asks, “You doubt me, love?”

Leaning a little closer, almost pointing her finger in his face – she might actually be in his face, her equilibrium is completely off right now –she mutters, “You look more like a pirate than a dashing prince.”

She leans back, taking in his whole body, and good Lord, what has she gotten herself into? Wearing a dark button-down shirt with a navy (could be black too, it’s hard to tell in this hallway that isn’t too well lit) vest over it, and dark jeans, this man certainly looks like he walked right out of romance novel. Only, he’s the bad-boy-mama-warned-you-about.

Emma licked her lips. The fact that she herself didn’t have a “mama” who could warn her about anything didn’t faze her right now, like it usually does. This man (and the alcohol) seem to have that effect on her.

“I prefer a dashing rapscallion,” he smirked, a small dimple appearing on his cheek.

And he has dimples?! Emma’s mind screamed.

She shook her head at him, “You’re something else, I tell you.”

He smiled at her, and she was sure that the room tilted just a tad. “I get that a lot.” Looking at her lips before looking back into her eyes, he commented, “Don’t I get something for protecting you against the dragons?”

Her mind was foggy, but now it was crystal clear. It was her turn to smirk. “Really? You ‘protect’ me against imaginary dragons, and you want a favor? What kind of gentleman are you?”

“We discussed this, love,” he said, taking a step closer to her and almost whispering. “A dashing rapscallion.”

Emma could feel the heat in her cheeks, and her heart was pounding in her ears. She didn’t want to admit that this man (whatever his name was), has gotten her more excited in the last ten minutes than Neal has in the last few years.

“You couldn’t handle it,” she flirted.

He raised an eyebrow and watched her carefully. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” he whispered back.

Looking him in the eyes before looking at his lips, Emma made up her mind before she could fully register it. Grabbing his shirt tightly, she pulled him closer to her and smashed her lips against his. And as much as she wanted to admit that he was all talk, he most certainly was not. His lips moved with hers in a rhythm that she has never been able to establish with any other guy she has been with. It was almost like he knew she wanted, which was impossible, because they never even met before.

She kissed him harder, her hands letting go of his shirt to work their way around his neck. He, too, was busy, his hands first around her waist before one hand went into her hair and gently, oh so gently, held onto her golden locks like they were his life-line.

He went to pull back, but Emma took a step closer to him (any closer, honestly, and she would actually be in his pants) and pulled him back in. He didn’t protest, but instead kissed her back even harder.

Finally, the need for air was too great and Emma leaned back, her forehead just grazing his. He was breathing just as deeply as she was, his hands running smoothly though her hair.

“That was—” he started before Emma’s phone rang.

She let go of him and pulled back completely before taking her phone out of her back pocket. It was her babysitter.

“Shit,” she muttered, reading the text. Henry had a nightmare and was crying and calling out for his mother. She looked back up at him, and, though she couldn’t fully tell thanks to the darken hallway, he certainly looked rumpled and a bit…well, almost dazed. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“I—” he started, but she was already backing away.

“Sorry, I don’t usually—This is an emergency.”

Before he could say another word, she was out of his arms and turned back towards the bar. She located Mary Margaret and told her what happened (about Henry, not about the guy she kissed passionately a few minutes ago), before leaving the bar altogether.

She never saw the guy again.

Until now.

Emma shook her head, trying with all of her might to move on from that night. Because, while Killian was…quite something, it was obviously a one-time thing, and she needed to just…forget it.

Unfortunately, it would pop into her mind at the most inconvenient times, like when she was in the shower, making breakfast, or –

“It’s overflowing.”

Quickly looking down, Emma realized that this person’s water glass was most certainly overflowing. Grabbing napkins from the table adjacent to it, she soaped up as much as she could before telling the patron that she was going to get a towel. Once she returned and cleaned up the mess, with more apologizes, she turned back to the kitchen.

“You’ve been awfully distracted lately. Something on your mind?”

Giving a quick glance her way, Emma saw the wolfish grin. Shaking her head, and focusing (seriously focusing) on measuring the correct amount of sugar into the containers, she replied, “No.”

Ruby chuckled. “Oh, Emma. You might be able to tell when people are lying to you, but you are a horrible liar yourself. Girl, just talk to me. I know you want to.”

“And I know that I want you to do the job that I pay you to do,” Granny said from behind them. Emma almost kissed her for saving her from this conversation. “Get back to work, Ruby.”

“Yes ma’am,” she replied in a huff, obviously disappointed that she’s not getting the information she clearly wanted.

Emma shook her head before muttering to the older woman, “Did you tell her?”

“It slipped out. I’m sorry. The second it came out of my mouth, I knew that I made a huge mistake.”

Of course, Emma had to tell Granny why she wouldn’t be working on her two busiest days of the week. She tried to make it sound classier than it truly was, because Emma wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being paid to pretend to be married to some dude.

Though, people do pretend to be other people for money. It’s called acting. Still, it made Emma a bit uncomfortable. Though, it might have something to do with the fact that she’s kind of, in a small way, attracted to Killian.

But she wasn’t too worried about that part. Because it would only be for 48 hours – less than that really, when you take into account that for 16 hours of that they will be asleep. In different bedrooms. Like it should be.

Emma was walking into a disaster.

“Think nothing of it,” Emma insisted to calm the woman’s nerves. “I’m sure that it would have come out sooner or later.”

“You need Friday, Saturday, and Sunday?”

Emma sighed. “Well, Friday afternoon. Closer to evening. I’m taking Henry over right after I pick him up from school.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Um,” Emma bit her lip, unsure of how to even continue. “We need to prepare. I…Henry and I need to get outfits ready and bring some things from the apartment to make it look…Well, to make his house look like home, if that makes any sense.”

Granny nodded. “Makes perfect sense, actually. Though they better not ruin that hair,” she said, gently touching Emma’s golden locks.

She gave a small laugh. “I don’t think they’re going to change that. No, I know he’s hiring some people to dress me and Henry up, for a lack of better term. So it looks like…”

“Like you come from money?”

“Or at least married into it, yeah.” Emma put down the sugar container and the cup she was using to measure it, and whispered to Granny something that has been bothering her. “It’s just…Granny, I don’t think I can act. You know, like I have money. I have been barely able to get by with what I make here. Tips included. I don’t think—”

“Emma Swan, you don’t need to act like anyone else other than yourself. If Kevin –”

“Killian,” Emma corrected.

But Granny ignored her and kept talking. “—Doesn’t appreciate that your saving his ass from whatever the hell it is that he got himself swept up in, honey, you march right out of that house and don’t you dare look back.”

Emma laughed. “I’ll do exactly that.”

~*~

“David, what in bloody hell is going on?”

Killian came home to find…well, just about everything in his house was gone. His expensive couch, gone. His formal dining room, gone. All of his old books, gone. Instead there was a couch that was probably expensive, but it looked worn in, with two winged chairs on either side of it different colors, but still kind of looking like a set. His long table gone, instead there a slightly smaller table with chairs that aren’t in perfect condition. His books (he hopes were put into storage) are replaced with books that range from Jane Austen to J.M. Barrie along with some pictures of Emma and Henry, Henry growing up, and one photo that was photoshopped of Emma, Henry, and Killian all smiling on the beach. Killian picks that photo up and if you look at it really closely, you can see that it’s a fake, but otherwise he might have thought this actually happened.

“Hey!” David said, coming out of kitchen with a bag of chips. “Yeah, we’re just moving the furniture around, trying to make it look like a family.”

“And where is my actual furniture?”

“In storage. Don’t worry, I didn’t throw out your precious First Edition of Moby Dick.”

“I don’t have a –” Killian looked at the huge pile of toys in the corner of the room and gestured to it. “David?”

He looked at Killian before shrugging. “Dude, you’re supposed to have an eight-year-old boy. Just be glad if it actually stays in that pile.”

Killian shook his head before putting both hands on the sofa in front of him (and damn it, it’s actually really soft). David wrapped the bag in of itself before placing it on the table behind the couch and asking, “Just what did you think this weekend was going to entail? We need to make it look real. So why do you have a stick up your butt?”

“I don’t know. I just…I thought I was living a good life, you know, and then…I realized it was, how did you say it? Cool.”

“You know that I love your house,” David defended.

But he waved him off. “Aye, I know. It’s not that. It’s just…maybe I haven’t been living my life the way I expected. Bloody hell, I’m almost thirty-five and I have to pretend to be married with a kid. I’m not even dating anyone to make it seem real.”

“Look I know you and Emma just met—”

“We met two years ago.”

David was silent before saying softly, “That’s right. And I don’t want to know, right?”

“I didn’t sleep with her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, I definitely heard enough,” David said, getting up from the couch. He moved to grab the bag of chips off the table before he said, “You know that if you hurt her, I’m going to hurt you, yeah?”

Killian nodded. “Understood.” Putting his hands in his pockets, he rocked on his heels once, twice, three times before stopping and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Okay, mate, when will this be done?”

David had a box of his own on the coffee table that was labeled Photos in a handwriting that was very much not David’s. He didn’t recognize it, though it did look feminine. If he had to wager, he would bet that it was Emma’s box.

Taking a picture frame out of the box, David sat down on the couch before putting his hand back into the box and taking out a smaller one. Once that was opened, he pulled out a stack of photos and Killian almost groaned at the thought that now they were going to have to go through that bloody pile of photos so it would look like Emma and Henry lived in the house and weren’t just visiting.

“Not sure,” David responded distractedly. He was looking through the pile, one by one, before finding one that seemed to appease him. Flipping the six by four frame over, David opened it up before placing the photo in it. Once he was securing it, he continued. “The movers said they only needed a couple of hours, and Regina claims they should have everything in place by ten o’clock.”

“Tonight?” Killian looked at his watch. It was barely past five. That means they were going to be in his house for another five hours? Bloody hell.

Getting up and taking the frame with him, David placed the photo on the bookshelf before going back to the couch to take out another frame and pick out another photo. Killian wished that he had a glass of rum on him, or anything really that had alcohol in it, because holy hell, this was going to be a process, wasn’t it?

“Why do you seem so shocked?” David asked as he sat back down. “They’re trying to make it look like a family lives here, especially one with a kid. Do you really not know that children have a lot of things?”

Killian walked over towards the photo David placed on the shelf. “I’m sure I did—Bloody hell!”

“What?!”

Killian turned back towards David, the picture frame in his hand. “Why is there a photo of Emma, Henry, and myself standing in front of Cinderella’s Castle?”

“Oh,” David sighed, relieved that that was all it was. Killian was just about to loose it, but luckily his friend was eerily calm. “They photoshopped that. To make it look like you took vacations together. You know, as a family.” David stopped what he was doing and focused on his friend. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem sort of…jumpy.”

“I’m not jumpy,” he yelled, but when the response was only a raised eyebrow, Killian decided to answer a little more truthfully. “I kind of am, I guess. It’s just…mate this is a big deal. One that might not come around again, and I…I don’t like being dishonest. It’s one thing to win your battles, but it’s another to win fairly.”

“You think that just because you’re pretending to have a family that you have a leg up over the competition?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. I think it’s also that I don’t really know Emma or Henry, so how can I--?”

“Oh!” David sat up straight, his eyes wide, an idea forming in his mind. “We should have you three sit around.” Before he could explain further, David grabbed his phone and began typing something rapidly.

When his friend got up off the couch, his phone still glued to his hand, Killian sighed and sat down on the vacate seat. He leaned over the box and saw a picture that must have been a real one. It was Emma and a much younger Henry, probably not even four-years-old, sitting in front of a Christmas tree. Emma was smiling down at the boy who was grinning at the camera with a missing tooth and a toy car held tightly in his lap. Killian focused on Emma’s face, the loving way she was looking at her son and sighed.

He knew, without a doubt, that he was in way over his head.

#the art of pretending #cs fanfiction #csmm #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan movie marathon

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herakosmos · 4 years ago

Text

matchup for @ioveworm!𐐪𐑂

“Hi!! my general info is: im 5'8, kinda chubby but not big in the boob area, (sobs), i have semi long curly black hair with brown front strands! i use she/her, im a virgo sun, sag moon, pisces rising! my personality type is intp-t. im pretty snarky without realizing it, also can be too blunt/straight forward around someone im comfortable with! i have a RBF so some people say i look angry/intimidating but in reality its just my social awkwardness which somehow feeds into that + the fact im awful at speaking with strangers, if i don't have to speak to someone i definitely wont so people need to take the first step in taking </3 im a huge empath and can sympathize with a lot of people but aso can hold grudges/ know how to stand my ground if i REAAALLLLY need to even if i am literally shitting myself LOLLL. i also cry very easily during movies, if an animal dies even if its just in the background i WILL break down into tears. im also super self conscious bc of my weight so 9/10 times i will be trying to make myself as unnoticeable as possible. i can be pretty sarcastic and retort back but if something someone says rubs me the wrong way i can tear up and cry easily haha.... i LOVEE dogs!! music/making playlists, horror movies/game play throughs, pubg/gaming, anime and learning abt animals! i can handle people who are quiet/dont talk much pretty well as long as they reassure me that im not being annoying or bothering them!! but if we can both talk about stuff we like together it makes me super happy and i'll always hear them out!! im pretty bubbly around people i'm close with and giggly but if i'm around other random people im still quiet/neutral... I HOPE THIS ISNT TOO MUCH !!!🥺😞”

hi!! and also dont worry about it i love longer descriptions bc it gives me more ideas on what to put in matchups! <33

this honestly took me longer than it should, but it was because i wanted to give myself a challenge and be more diverse with my options!

i really hope you enjoy this 🥺

i match you up with . . .

kenjirō shirabu!! 𐐪𐑂

✰ ok this pairing went through a lot of rollercoasters when meeting, BUT HEAR ME OUT

✰ the sorta tsundere x lovable girlfriend trope in this is 🥺🥺🥺🥺

✰ your first encounter with shirabu would be sorta rocky i’d say. he has this thing where he tries to mask his real feelings with insults because he honestly doesn’t know what the fuck are feelings

✰ i feel like the reason why he fell for for you was mostly because of how everyone perceived you to be this mean and b*tchy person when you’re actually the opposite

✰ one day you just couldn’t handle it anymore and started to release a few tears from each eye

“do you hate me that much?”

✰ honestly this line broke him :((

“you’re not annoying to me kay? it’s just…never mind”

✰ the more you two actually spent time together though, you guys do warm up to each other bit by bit

✰ him asking you out would probably be the most awkward thing ever JBAKHBXKHXB

✰ poor boy is new to all of this mushy feeling stuff

“weprobablymaybelikeeachotheridontknowbutwouldyougooutwithme..?”

✰ you would probably be like: ???

✰ THIS GUY IS TURNING SO RED NOW SEND HELP FOR HIM

✰ i don’t know why but he’ll be the type to just whip out his phone and try to type out what he was trying to say while you’re in front of him

✰ shirabu: go out with me?

✰ the two of you end up becoming a blushing mess together (AWHH)

✰ lemme tell you, once this guy becomes your man, all hard work pays off

✰ this man would take care of you. even though he rarely shows it verbally, he definitely does through acts of services

✰ shirabu understands your self coniousness since he tends to get like that too. to be honest he doesn’t really care about the way you look. he loves you just the way you are and it honestly makes him want to punch whoever made you feel the need to be super conscious about yourself

✰ the amount of cute puppy pictures he spams your phone just to cheer you up (AWHHH)

✰ he knows probably almost everything about you and remembers even the smallest details

✰ like for example he knows that you dye the front strands of your hair brown, so on his own he’ll buy boxes of hair dye for you and leave them in the cabinet

“don’t use too much of it or else i have to get more”

✰ he’s so blunt omg and sometimes it may rub you the wrong way, but shirabu really does try to tone it down for you because he hates it when you cry. especially when he is the cause of it :((

✰ he’ll pull you close and kisses away your tears🥺

✰ dates can include going to dog cafés, the zoo or movie dates at home :D

✰ the first ever time you guys had a movie date this boy really thought of a plan to give you the scare of a lifetime by watching a super scary horror movie. little did he know you LOVED horror, so when he put it on you were unfazed and this dude was so shocked at you

✰ in shirabu’s mind: how the fuck is she not scared right now

✰ his reactions were so priceless and honestly he was kinda pissed you weren’t cuddling up against him right now for protection😭😭

“how are you not afraid of this”

“i don’t know either, i mean this is sooooo scary”

✰ shirabu turned to you immediately with a shocked expression. he learned two things that day, you loved horror movies and can get pretty sarcastic lmao

“thanks a lot for ruining my plans of you jumping into my arms for protectio-”

“what?”

✰ shirabu was actually the one who suggested going to a dog café and the zoo afterwards. it really shocked you since he wasn’t really big with animals

✰ in actuality, the setter knew how much you loved animals and wanted to take you on an animal themed date for the day (even though he’ll never say it)

✰ the way your eyes sparkled and become so invested in the creatures honestly makes him so soft. no one makes him so soft like you, you’re one lucky girl🙈

“baby can we please get a dog?”

“no”

“pleeasseee”

“no”

“you can be the big spoon from now on”

“yes”

✰ KJDBXJBSJSJBNJN

✰ NO ONE KNOWS SHIRABU LETS YOU BE THE BIG SPOON AND IF ANYONE DID ALL HELL WILL BREAK LOOSE

✰ light giggles started to leave your mouth due to the fact he gave in so quickly because of that one offer

✰ shirabu soon started to mess up your hair and gave you a small smile🥺🥺

“i’m only agreeing, so you won’t have to have a permenant pout on your face whenever we pass a dog on the street baka”

✰ head pokes are a BIG thing for showing his “affection” for you

✰ making fun of him? head poke

✰ getting frustrated because of an idiotic character in an anime? head poke

✰ whenever shirabu plays a video game with you he’ll show NO mercy and try to beat you and when he does his cocky smirks start to show. he also tries to hold back his tongue to try and not tease you

✰ but when you win, omg he gets so salty. his face most definetely would try not to show it, but inside his head he’s raging SO MUCH

“tch you only won because i let you”

“sure babe, sureeee”

✰ becomes so salty he’ll probably start a pillow fight with you LMAO

✰ this guy definitely loves late night calls with you. he enjoys your soothing voice and would wanna hear you talk 24/7. he gets fairly busy juggling studies and volleyball, so your voice really makes him feel less stressed out🥺 sometimes the call would run on until the next day because you two soon fall asleep on call together haha

✰ i feel like shirabu wouldn’t have a lot of pet names for you, but sometimes he’ll call you “baka” “babe” and “darling”

✰ you being a virgo and him being a taurus you guys are a great match!

✰ both can be quite sincere and devoted to one another. virgos like taurus’s strength and commitment while taurus loves virgo’s quick mind!

✰ shirabu is an ENTJ while you are an INTP which means another great match :)))

✰ ENTJs love INTP’s way of thinking, knowledge and being patient. INTPs love ENTJ’s enthusiasm for knowledge, straightforwardness and being able to take criticism well <33

bonus!

heres an anime relationship type gif that i just think you two would do 🥺

#haikyuu!!#anime matchup #haikyuu matchups #anime matchups #cute #hq shirabu #haikyuu shirabu #shirabu kenjirou #shirabu matchup #haikyuu matchup

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wiener-soldiers · 4 years ago

Text

operation omega - AV-616 (ii)

summary: years after the avengers dismantle HYDRA, the group remerges more dangerous than ever. their modus operandi? infiltrating foreign governments, stealing and reproducing their weapons, and selling them to terrorist groups. when the us government approaches the avengers for help on a secret operation with a secret asset, they are reluctant to agree. it isn’t until their quinjet almost gets shot down in the middle of nowhere when the understand that omega means business.

pairing: bucky barnes x SEAL!reader

words: 2.2k

warnings: light swearing, mentions of violence

a/n: these chapters will get longer i promise

taglist: add yourself here!

OPERATION OMEGA MASTERLIST

Somehow, despite all the resource’s the Earth’s mightiest heroes had, they were all still crammed on the smallest Quinjet they had.

They had strict orders from Secretary Ross to pack lightly and take the smallest Quinjet they had. Despite saying that they may be at this location for several months, Ross said that everything they needed would be provided for them.

By who? He didn’t say.

There actually wasn’t much anyone knew about the secretive mission they were going on, aside from the debriefing packet full of intel Secretary Ross sent to them, coordinates to an unknown location and the fact that it was secret.

In all honesty, he had no problem with the mission being so secret. Tony and Steve seemed to trust Ross enough to understand that this mission was legitimate and important, but they still pressed for more answers every chance they got. Eventually Ross hissed something along the lines of, “It’s too fucking important for me to tell you over the phone,” which shut the both of them up really well.

Bucky was too used to just following orders, despite not grasping the whole picture—first in the army, then with HYDRA. Besides him and maybe Sam, he could tell that everyone else was a little on edge with the secrecy of it all.

“We should be there in fifteen minutes,” Clint calls from the cockpit.

“Wherever ‘there’ is,” Sam says quietly, causing a small fit of tired giggles to erupt in the cabin.

Bucky was hunched over, eyes trained on the strip of clear floor in the middle of the Quinjet. The Quinjet had no windows, so the clear strip in the floor was a good indicator of location. Wanda sat to his left and Banner to his right. He hadn’t really said much the whole flight, focusing on listening to Tony quietly discuss his concerns with Steve and figuring. And, of course, figuring out where the fuck they were going.

Wanda nudges his foot slightly, and Bucky immediately thinks, What?

Wanda then slides the toe of her foot towards the clear strip in the middle of the fuselage. Bucky knows that she’s asking; Did you figure out where we’re going?

No, Bucky thinks and Wanda sighs dejectedly beside him in response.

Wanda points to the clear strip with her toe once again, then taps on his knee twice. One tap, yes; two taps, no was one of their unspoken rules. Bucky once again knows she’s asking, Do you know where we aren’t going?

Bucky furrows his brow slightly and thinks, Not that close to a coast, probably still on this continent but I’m not sure which country. Temperate or boreal forests in the mountains, so we’re not that far south. But that’s all I got.

Wanda nods. A few beats later, she points to clear floor one final time before nodding in the direction of the cockpit, Does Clint know where we’re going? He has coordinates.

Bucky shakes his head and Wanda slumps in her seat, the back of her head hitting the fuselage wall behind her. The coordinates Ross was given were encrypted; Bucky thinks to her. He gave us an algorithm to decode it once autopilot was engaged, so no one know where we’re going except for the stupid computer.

Wanda’s silence is enough acknowledgement for him. They sit in more silence before Bucky thinks to her, Any more questions?

He can feel her roll her eyes amusedly and taps his knee twice, No.

Are you okay? Bucky asks once more.

One slightly aggressive tap to the knee, Yes, asshole.

“Okay, I’m just gonna say it,” Bruce says from beside Bucky. “Does anyone else find this extremely fishy? Ross—who we don’t work for, by the way—gives us intel about HYDRA and tells us we have a secret mission with a secret asset at a secret location and we’re all supposed to believe it? And how the hell is the public not gonna question why the Avengers basically disappeared for several months?”

“Don’t worry about PR, we have staged press releases lined up just in case something like this happens,” Natasha says from across from him. Bucky raises his eyebrow at her, and she shrugs in response.

“It’s clear what the mission is,” Steve answers from his spot in the cockpit. He is leaning against the co-pilot’s seat where Tony is sitting, reading the intel Ross gave them, “He wants us to take down HYDRA.”

“But how Steve? And why go through all this trouble?” Banner counters.

Before Steve can answer, a male voice cuts through the radio, forcing everyone to be quiet. Tony reaches forward and flips a switch, making it so the radio plays through the PA system.

“I’m sorry, say again?” Clint says as everyone stares at him with wide eyes.

“AV-616, you are in restricted airspace. State your purpose of flight now as defiance to do so will force me to ground your plane,” the stern male voice repeats itself.

Clint looks around the Quinjet with wide eyes before hesitantly saying, “I apologize. We were given coordinates and a flight path that requires us to fly through this location. Over.”

The line goes quiet for a little while and Steve hisses, “Barton, what the hell is going on?”

“If you get us shot down, I’ll kill you myself,” Sam grumbles, anxiously taping his foot.

“I did nothing but plug in the coordinates and that stupid algorithm Ross gave us. The flight plan is his shit, not mine,” Clint barks back.

“AV-616, do you copy?” A new voice cuts in. It’s a woman’s voice this time, Bucky notes and everyone glances at each other in surprise.

Clint clears his throat, “This is AV-616, I copy.”

“AV-616, that price on my head, was that dead or alive?” the woman asks, and the cabin goes silent.

Sam speaks first, “What the fuck is she talking about?”

Steve immediately goes into Captain mode, “Barton, figure out the fastest route out of here in case something goes wrong. We have the smaller Quinjet, use mountains as cover in case we try to get shot down. Stark, track all incoming projectiles, either in here or with your suit. Sam and Nat, prep any artillery. If something comes, I want you on guns—”

“Steve! This could be a code,” Natasha interrupts. “We’re at a secret location, maybe she just needs confirmation that we are supposed to be here.”

“AV-616, do you copy?” the woman asks.

“She’s right,” Banner says. He stands up and makes his way to the cockpit. “Tony, is there anything in the brief about a code?”

“Shit, let me double check—”

“Don’t remember. See if he starts shooting,” Bucky cuts in.

“Dude, what?” Sam asks him, eyeing him incredulously.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “It’s from a movie, dumbass.” He stands up and makes his way to the cockpit, motioning to Clint to turn on the radio to let him speak.

“This is AV-616, say again?” Bucky says.

The radio crackles from the other side of the line, “The price on my head, was that dead or alive?”

“Don’t remember. See if he starts shooting. Over,” Bucky says. He feels the entire cabin take a breath.

After what feels like a lifetime, the other end of the radio cackles once again, “AV-616, you’re clear to land. See you soon, over.”

The Earth’s mightiest heroes sigh in relief as Clint navigates towards the open field the coordinates led them to. Bucky catches Steve’s gaze and he offers the blond a slight smirk, “It’s from Inception. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it, with it being on your list and all.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Just get your stuff, jerk.”

The clearing, as it turns outs, wasn’t actually a clearing. As Clint got closer and closer to the ground, the suspecting grass shifts and slides to the side, revealing an underground hangar filled with three jets and other vehicles. As soon as the Quinjet hits the bottom and the cargo door opens, mechanical creaking is heard above, and the large steel doors slide shut.

Bucky wonders what feat of engineering was needed in order to pull that off.

At the bottom of the cargo door is a man in an all-black uniform. Something about him absolutely screams military to Bucky, but he can’t put his finger on it. It’s most likely his posture and the fact that standing so close to some of the most famous people in the world doesn’t phase him.

“Your late,” was the first thing he said, directed at Steve mostly. He notices striking similarities between the two; both with piercing blue eyes and blond hair. Steve stands a little taller, but the man’s gaze is way tenser than Steve’s natural one.

“Sorry, had a little trouble landing,” Steve retorts before sticking his hand out to shake.

“I’m Steve Rogers.”

The man grasps his hand, “Lieutenant Jackson Daniels. Call me Jack. It’s an honour, sir.”

Bucky was right about him being in the military.

He hears Tony snorts behind him, being the last one to leave the plane, “Jack Daniels? Like the whiskey?”

Jack smirks, “Whiskey was my call sign on SEAL Team Six. Feel free to call me that if you like, Mr. Stark.”

Sam lets out a low whistle and the rest of team let out quiet laughs as Jack shuts Tony up. Bucky can’t help but notice how Wanda stares at Jack’s face as he talks to Steve. He smirks and thinks, Didn’t know blonds were your type, Maximoff.

Suddenly, Bucky trips over seemingly nothing. He looks up and catches the magical red glow fade away from Wanda’s fingers. Bitch, he thinks to her. She smirks in response.

“If you’d all follow me, the rest of the team is waiting in the command room,” Jack calls out to the mass of people around him.

He leads them out of the hanger and towards an elevator. The elevator is huge and faster than what he’s used to. He catches Steve’s eye and offers him a slight smile.

“Doing okay, Cap? Little freaked out by your look-alike?” he asks, nodding towards Jack who is answering every question Tony throws at him either with a “No,” “That’s classified,” or “You’ll see.”

His best friend lets out a small laugh, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Something this secretive?”

“Something that feels so…army. I dunno, it feels comforting. Familiar, I guess.”

Bucky offers him another smile, “I know what you mean.”

The elevator screeches to a halt and the thick steel doors slide open, revealing a network of dark hallways, grey walls, and concrete floors. Jack steps out first and gestures them to follow him, “You’ll all have your own rooms, but we should probably brief first.”

“Where are we?” Bruce asks, stepping out of the elevator hesitantly after him.

“I’m afraid telling you the exact location is classified. Hell, I don’t even really know,” Jack answers.

“Are you going to show us the asset?” Tony asks, following him out of the elevator as well.

“Asset?” Jack asks.

“Ross said we have a special mission with the asset.”

Jack smirks, “We’re the asset.”

“Who’s we?”

Tony’s question was answered not a second later. Jack lead them into a dark room being illuminated by desk lamps and screens covering literally every surface. There are five desks all in a line, with three monitors each. Bucky even noticed the tabletop was a screen, as each of the four desk occupants worked away in their desks. He assumed the unoccupied desk belonged to Jack.

“Captain, they’re here,” Jack shouted. No one sitting at their desks turned around and Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until he followed Jack’s line of vision upwards. Behind the five desks was an elevated loft at the back of the room where one final desk sat. It was bigger than the others and had the best view of the collection of files, photos and videos projected on the wall across from it.

At the desk sat a woman, presumably Jack’s captain. Her eyes were trained to the screen in front of her until Jack called her name once again. Her eyes shifted toward his, then scanned the rest of the Avengers who had slowly filed in.

The woman then stands up. Sporting the same black cargo pants and boots as Jack as well as a grey tank top and dog tags, Bucky got the feeling that everyone on this team was ex-military, too.

The woman smirks at Jack slightly, “Omega, we got visitors. Look alive.”

The rest of the Avengers immediately recognize her voice as the voice from the radio. The watch as the walks down the stairs so she can speak to them. She stands beside Jack, facing the rest of the Avengers with a lazy smirk, “Sorry about landing. This base is secret, so we don’t want any unsolicited guests.”

Natasha counters, “Do you threaten to shoot everyone who flies by this place?”

“Only the people who don’t know the confirmation code. Or the people who don’t join this frequency when they’re a mile away. Which, by the way, you guys did neither,” the woman says nonchalantly, amused glare directed at Steve.

“We never got a—”

“It’s the first page of the briefing. That Inception quote was a last resort, which was also found in the briefing by the way. If none of you fuckers watched Inception, I would definitely shoot you down,” she cut Steve off.

“…That’s on me,” Tony sighed, “I skipped the first few pages because looking at all those protocols made me bored.”

“And with that, I’ll finally introduce myself. My name’s Captain Y/N Y/L/N. This is Omega.”

THREE: NAKED

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #buck barnes fic #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barns fanfiction #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan fanfiction #operation omega

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beatriceeagle · 4 years ago

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no pressure if you're busy but i was wondering - is titans good? or is it more a show where you're like it's not /good/ but i like it? i thought it looked interesting but then everyone was so negative about it i kind of got put off. And then your (really excellent btw) video resparked why i thought it'd be interesting to watch in the first place. thanks!

I haven’t paid a ton of attention to what fans have said about Titans, although I’m aware that there’s a general negative vibe around it. I suspect that whether Titans is worth watching for you depends a whole lot on what you want out of Titans.

I went into the show having never read a DC comic in my life. I was coming off of a week-long Wikipedia binge on Batman and his associated characters—the Robins, the Batgirls, some dude named Signal—and was talking to @thirdblindmouse about how it had become overwhelmingly clear to me that we’ve been doing Batman all wrong for decades, and the way to tell the story is as an ensemble family drama about intergenerational trauma. And she was like, “Uh, have you seen Titans?” So all of my pre-existing understanding of the characters comes from Google and selected comics scans.

I suspect that the show’s interpretation of Dick Grayson, in particular, is... skewed? I’m almost certain, based on scans of comics I’ve seen/the half a season of Teen Titans I watched a lifetime ago, that its interpretation of Starfire is highly nontraditional. There are certain storylines that I know they’re adapting, but like, they are playing very loose with the adaptation of even some of the characters’ basic personalities. (I’m pretty sure—again, not really a DC comics fan!)

So if you’re very committed to a generally cheerful Dick Grayson, Titans will not give you that. If you have a vision of Batman as a generally decent man, Titans will really not give you that. In general, I think that the show would be better if it erred more towards a lighter tone for Dick—there are moments where he has shades of Quentin in season three of The Magicians, when Q was kind of endearingly hapless, and the show is better for it. But I think it earns its ambivalent stance on Batman, and uses it well. Batman in Titans looks and acts like your dad whose office you’re not allowed into. And Titans!Starfire is really amazing. Like, Anna-Diop-is-a-revelation, fuck-now-you’ve-got-me-shipping-against-my-will amazing.

The bigger issue that Titans has—and this is not unrelated to Dick’s characterization, I guess—is its relationship with violence. Titans is a really violent show, especially in its first season, and it’s off-putting. Pretty much every superhero show involves the heroes beating up bad guys; not every superhero show involves the protagonist mutilating someone in the course of a fight.

This is not unthinking hyperviolence. Titans (which is actually annoyingly pretty good about tracking character through action sequences) is trying to make a point: The compounding traumas of Dick’s childhood resulted in an explosion of rage. Batman funneled his anger into Dick; Dick funnels his anger into whatever bad guy he’s fighting. The show isn’t subtle about this idea. Dick says it out loud several times. Nor (after the first fight) does the show endorse Dick’s over-the-top violence. Everyone from Donna Troy to Dick himself remarks on it with, at minimum, concern. And over time, Dick’s fighting style changes; he consciously leaves the hyperviolence behind, until his final fight of season two is primarily evasive.

But Dick is not the only Titans character who is working out his rage on the criminals he apprehends, and the show is considerably less coherent in its tonal approach to other characters’ violence. Hank and Dawn—the masked hero team Hawk and Dove—have an origin story that plays out like the the backstory of a serial killer couple, their interlocking trauma and rage and grief finding expression and acceptance in each other. The show is aware of the dynamic, but it’s not clear that it’s aware of how disturbing it is. Hank and Dawn are, primarily, people who need to cause violence in order to be at peace in their own heads—and only secondarily, people who want to protect others from danger. Season two does do some work exploring this idea, but the exploration is confused by the fact that, in the end, the show wants both of them on the cast.

Which is kind of the problem with any superhero show that sets out to explore the ethics of superheroism—at the end of the day, the characters aren’t gonna retire to Wisconsin, you know? So Titans presents hyperviolence, presents it as problematic (sometimes), presents it as almost an inevitable consequence of traumatized teenagers deciding to pursue vigilante justice... and then builds a superhero team of traumatized teenagers and young adults. As is its basic conceit.

And on a more fundamental level, the hyperviolence just sort of makes the show feel very grim. It’s already an aesthetically dark show, a lot of the time, and then you’ve got people getting mutilated, and Batman’s an asshole and Dick Grayson’s got anger management issues, and it feels like the show’s grimdark.

I don’t think it is, though. First of all, despite everything, Titans actually has a sense of humor, both in general and occasionally about itself—I mean, it’s not Legends of Tomorrow, but it understands how to crack a smile every now and then. (They have a superdog. He shoots lasers out of his eyes!) But more importantly, at the end of the day, Titans is hopeful. Yeah, it’s a show about anger and violence and intergenerational trauma—but it’s more specifically about moving beyond those things. At its heart, it’s about being a better parent to your children than your parents were to you.

That central relationship between Dick and Rachel—Dick trying, and sometimes failing, but always caring and trying to be better for Rachel, and Rachel’s absolute fury with him when he fails, but her unshakeable devotion to him for being there, the unbelievable amount of sway he holds in her world—that’s what makes the show work for me. There are other vital relationships, too—Rachel and Kory, especially, but also all of the pseudo-familial relationships built up between all of the characters—but it all comes back to Dick and Rachel.

I mean, it’s a found family show. So much so that in season two, there are like, three separate speeches about how this is a family, not one of those stupid biological families, but a family we found, and isn’t that the important kind? And how grimdark can a found family show really be?

The other thing that might throw some people off—but which is actually one of my favorite things about the show—is the structure. If you take a look at the Titans episode list, you’ll see that roughly 75 percent of the episodes are named after a character or characters. Season one of Titans is basically about Dick, Starfire, Gar, and Rachel (Raven from the comics) traveling the midwest, picking up the people who will eventually form the main Titans team. When they encounter those people, they get a spotlight episode. So in episode two, “Hawk and Dove,” when Dick and Rachel lay low at Hank and Dawn’s, the episode starts out with an extended cold open, entirely disconnected from the main characters, just introducing us to Hank and Dawn as characters. Episode eight, “Donna Troy,” sees Dick go to visit his old friend Donna in Milwaukee, and... basically just hang out with her for half the episode, while the rest of the cast does plot stuff. Occasionally, these spotlight episodes stop the plot completely: Towards the end of season one, an episode ends on a cliffhanger. the next episode, rather than showing the outcome of the cliffhanger, is “Hank and Dawn,” an episode that flashes back to show the story of how Hank and Dawn met and became masked heroes. (There’s an in-episode device that eventually makes it clear why this story is related to the cliffhanger.) Season two uses the cliffhanger-into-a-flashback-spotlight-episode structure two more times, once with a character we’ve never met before.

I can see this being deeply frustrating to a viewer watching week-by-week (and I would not recommend watching Titans in that manner). And it’s certainly an unconventional way to structure a season of television. But honestly? I think it’s half of what I like about the show. The spotlight and flashback episodes are good—often some of the best the show’s produced. They don’t stop the plot for no reason; in season two, in particular, they provide context and backstory and characterization in a way that would be almost impossible to do, or to do so well, without the space of a full episode. They make the show more episodic than it would otherwise be—always a joy, in a television landscape full of 10-hour movies—and give it space to experiment with tone and genre. They make the characters richer, and the relationships more complex.

Does it slow down the plot? Absolutely. But Titans is not overflowing with complex plot, and I don’t really think it should try to. The plot of Titans hangs together juuuuuuuust enough to make the themes and characters and relationships work. It’s coherent—we’re not talking Teen Wolf, here—but it’s not brilliant, and honestly, that’s fine by me. But I suppose if you want your plot to be really good, this may not be the show for you.

Finally, I’ll say that Titans, though not what I would call a feminist show (it has a primarily male writing staff and I think it shows) does have a kind of surprisingly large female cast? I wanna say it’s five men, five women, by the end of season two? (Yeah, it’s a fucking enormous cast.) And the women have actual relationships with each other, ones that the show puts some effort into maintaining and remembering. I realize this is damning with faint praise, but honestly I’d just expected a show like Titans to not do that, and was prepared to ignore it, and was kind of pleasantly surprised when I didn’t have to.

In summary: I told my sister that Titans is 10% men in spandex standing on cars, 30% team as family, 30% intergenerational trauma, 20% an uncomfortable relationship with is own hyperviolence, and 10% Krypto the Superdog. I think that tracks. That show, despite having Anna Diop’s glowing presence, has a lot of flaws, but it also really worked for me on some soul-deep level. I am exactly on its wavelength.

I do not think that Titans is a fantastic television show, but I also don’t think it’s a very bad one. I think it’s generally competent show that is very interesting in some aspects, is weak in some areas, falls prey to some inherent trappings of its genre, is thoughtful about familial trauma, is not thoughtful enough about violence and criminal justice, has a lot of very compelling performances, is really poorly lit a lot of the time, pays a lot of attention to its visual language, kind of thinks Batman’s an asshole, and has Krypto the Superdog. It really worked for me; I can see why others might not be into it; it might work for you!

#thank you for giving me this opportunity to talk about titans #a show that has EATEN MY BRAIN #titans #meta

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gimmethatsweetwhump · 5 years ago

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The Underground Arena - Part 1

So. New story! I wrote this one for my super duper amazing friend @whumpthisway, and it’s about fighters and underground rings and big, strong whumpees :3 Hope you enjoy! <3

(This part is mainly buildup, but I’ve already written another 2,000 words so hopefully it won’t be long till we get to the good part ~)

TWs: human trafficking, slavery, dehumanization, forced to fight, death mentions, fear of death

---

Vincent couldn’t stop pacing. Eventually, Greta told him to sit –you can’t run from it, might as well sit down– so he tried to make himself comfortable on one of the sorry stools they keep in the break room, even though his body is too big for it. He’s still sitting down now, as Greta goes on about fighting tactics.

Greta’s advice is always helpful – she has a lot of experience to share, and her cool voice helps ground him when he’s nervous before a fight. But today, it’s really hard to focus on what she’s saying.

He’s not just nervous; he is genuinely afraid. It’s been years since he was last afraid of an opponent. Of course, none of his previous opponents were like The Reaper.

Vincent keeps thinking about the first and only other time Claude arranged for one of his fighters to face The Reaper. The Reaper was relatively new, back then, but he had already made a name for himself – or rather, his owner had. Claude thought it would be good to put out that spark before it turned into a fire, prove that he was better than him. The guy he sent wasn’t anything too special, but he was spry and looked like he could hold his ground against a larger fighter.

Claude’s guy never came back to the fighters’ quarters after the fight. It wasn’t a Death Fight, and as far as Vincent knows, the guy didn’t die in the ring. But he never came back to the fighters’ quarters. (Two days later, nearly everyone who used to share a room with him in the fighters’ quarters was fighting over his stuff.)

Claude then decided that he was not going to lose any more fighters to The Reaper, so he never arranged any fights with his owner again. But now he has to, because his audience wants him to, and The Reaper’s owner –his name is Leonard, Vincent thinks– wants him to, and he can’t afford to let down either.

Claude doesn’t like losing, though. So he’s going to send one of his best – as if it’s going to make any difference. The Reaper is currently the best fighter in the city of Del, and it will be a long, long time before he meets his match, but Claude is too proud to accept that. He thinks it’s worth the risk, if it means he might finally best Leonard.

Not that Vincent doesn’t share Claude’s animosity. Leonard has got money, so much money that even Claude wouldn’t know what to do with it (yeah, right), has somehow gotten his hands on the best fighter in Del, but refuses to join a ring, and doesn’t seem interested in creating his own. Calling it a business is bad enough already, but for this man, it’s just a game. Somehow, that pisses Vincent off even more. (Claude has a wholly different reason, of course – he hates Leonard because he turned him down when Claude asked him to join the Arena.)

Vincent might be large, and fast, and he could kill a man with just a well-aimed punch – but The Reaper is larger, and faster, and deadlier. Vincent has been at the Underground Arena long enough to learn to live with fear, but he hasn’t actually feared for his life in years. Because he’s learned how things work. Because he might dream of strangling Claude in his sleep, but he still knows that he’s lucky it’s Claude who owns him and not somebody else.

Claude has his reputation. His fighting ring, the Underground Arena, is one of the most popular rings in Del. He doesn’t participate in Death Fights, and doesn’t send his fighters out to die in the ring – or, well, he doesn’t do it on purpose. (“Accidents happen.”) He uses corporal punishment only if he deems it absolutely necessary, and doesn’t make his fighters kneel in his presence, or use honorifics when they’re speaking to him. Vincent isn’t lucky he’s here, but he’s definitely lucky he’s not in other rings – like the Playground, or the Onion Ring, or the Beast’s Den, where fighters are treated like animals, or worse, objects.

Vincent has his own mattress. He has books, two of them, which aren’t very pleasant to read in his dimly lit, windowless room in the fighters’ quarters, but at least he has them. And he has Greta, even if he doesn’t get to see her that much. At least he isn’t kept in a cage, and he isn’t tortured when he doesn’t perform well.

Vincent thinks about the guy who never came back to the fighters’ quarters. They both lived in the Underground Arena, in the same room, so naturally Vincent knew the guy, if not that well. He doesn’t remember his name, or most of what he looked like – the only thing he remembers clearly is that he had a mark on his chin, a birthmark or a scar acquired in the streets, Vincent never asked. He had his first actual conversation with the guy only hours before his fight with The Reaper – he remembers thinking about how he was an okay dude, good company for someone found down here, someone he’d like to joke around with again.

At least he didn’t get too attached.

When Greta finally finishes with what she was saying, Vincent has hardly heard a word. “You’re not listening,” Greta says, even though she already knew that. She always talks like this, no matter the subject – casually, like she’s discussing the weather. Although, now that he thinks about it, he can’t really imagine such a discussion would have been particularly casual, what with them being stuck underground and all. If it ever came to that, it would probably be something more along the lines of, so this is what the sky looks like? Well, good to know.

The three years Vincent has spent in this place might feel like a lifetime, but Greta has been here far longer than he has. Five years at the Arena, but eight as a fighter. It’s been all she’s known for a very long time, but it’s a bit comforting to see that she’s still keeping it together. Not exactly the light at the end of the tunnel that would keep someone going, but it’s something.

“Sorry,” Vincent murmurs. “I really appreciate you doing this. I’m just… I’m having trouble keeping a clear head.”

Greta pats him on the shoulder sympathetically. “Claude doesn’t lend his guys out for Death Fights. They’ll stop it if it goes too far.”

Vincent stares down at his hands. “Will they?” he mutters, even though he doesn’t really want to talk about it. Because he knows Greta won’t lie to him.

She shrugs. “Maybe they won’t,” she admits, almost apologetically. “It’s happened before.”

Vincent snorts unhappily. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Shouldn’t have asked if you didn’t wanna hear it, boo. You know I don’t like lying.” She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at Vincent from where she’s towering over him, drumming her fingers on her arm. “I don’t think Claude would let another one of his fighters die in the hands of The Reaper. He doesn’t like losing money.”

“The other guy wasn’t killed. He was damaged beyond repair, so they got rid of him,” Vincent hears himself say. The words leave a bad taste in his mouth – it’s not something he would normally say. “And Claude was compensated for the loss.”

“Finding new fighters ain’t easy,” Greta reminds him. “Most of the guys they get nowadays are from outside Del, and you know how outsiders call what’s happening in here.” Slavery. “Out there, this shit is illegal. It’s hella risky for people like Claude and Jane. And, well,” she continues, “you’re a good fighter, Vince. You might even stand a chance. Or Claude wouldn’t be sending you out there.”

That’s bullshit, Vincent thinks. Greta would kick his ass if he said that to her, though, so instead he settles for, “I’m still worried.”

“Well, of course. It’s The Reaper.” She points at her chest. “I’d be worried.”

Vincent can’t help but smile a little at that. “No way.”

“Truly,” Greta says – she’s smiling now, too. “I’m serious.”

“I used to be a fan, you know?” Vincent says, pretending to be shocked. “Is this what they mean when they say you should never meet your heroes?”

She chuckles and pushes him lightly – or what qualifies as lightly for Greta. “Shut up, Cub.”

“Nobody calls me that anymore,” he protests, laughing. He pushes her, too, knowing full well he is starting a pushing contest that will end with his ass on the floor. It’s a welcome distraction from what he knows is going to happen to him in… probably less than an hour, now.

He doesn’t want to think that it might be the last time he gets to joke around with Greta like this, like they often do before normal fights. Fights where they actually have a chance of winning, and losing only means that they’d have to deal with a few bruises and an empty stomach for a while, perhaps earn them a light beating, if Claude isn’t around to keep his men in line. At least that’s what it’s like for Vincent – he doesn’t know exactly how Jane deals with her fighters’ failure. It’s not like Greta ever loses, anyway.

This is different. He knows he’s not going to win, because he isn’t in a movie. The question is, how much will this failure cost him? He never actually expected to die in the ring, but now he has to consider that very real possibility.

But Greta’s smile is just too welcoming for him to keep thinking about this right now. Can’t run from it, might as well sit down with a friend.

#whump #writing #ocs #my ocs #the underground arena #slavery #fear #dehumanization #multiple whumpees #(sort of?)#death mention #minor character death #(mentioned)#let me tell you this is turning out way too plotty

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