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boxofbonesfic · 3 years

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Smut ask game! Number 7 👀👀

#7: “You want your [object] back? Make me.” Title: Make Me Rating: Explicit Warnings: Dubcon, Spanking, Brat!Reader, Dom!Bucky Barnes, Aggressive Bucky (lmao)

A/N: GOD I LOVE THIS PROMPT LMAO. Omg as soon as i got this this EXACT scenario popped into my head and i knew it was the one 🤣 This is a work of FICTION, and it is Dark, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk! Minors, DNI! Enjoy 😘

Summary: You confront your inconsiderate new neighbor.

THUMP!

You sat straight up in bed, staring blearily around the room.

THUMP! THUMP!

“Wha’ time’ssit?” You mumbled, rubbing at your eyes as you groped for your phone, lost among your sheets and pillows. You groaned loudly as another apartment shaking THUMP vibrated through your bedroom, and finally you felt the cool glass of your phone under your fingertips. You winced as the bright light blinded you, and you cursed, almost dropping it.

3:08 AM

“What the fuck is he doing now?” You groaned. Your newest neighbor—newest pain in the ass, more like—had begun remodeling. You weren’t sure what he could be doing at three-oh-fucking-eight in the morning, but that had to be it. Another loud bang had you sitting back up in bed, and you threw the pillow angrily across the room. Before you’d realized it, you were shoving your feet into your ratty blue slippers, and marching across the creaky floor.

Three-oh-goddam-motherfucking-eight, you thought venomously, stalking single mindedly through your kitchen towards the front door. You’d been more than lenient when it came to your rather reclusive neighbor—when he’d moved in in the middle of the night, furniture banging up the stairwell. When he’d boxed your car in for four hours, forcing you to take a taxi to work—after leaving a polite but firm note on the windshield of his bike—you’d been understanding then, too. And it had helped to run into his cute blond friend leaving his apartment, who asked if maybe you might look in on his insular friend from time to time.

But it was three-sweet-fucking-jesus-oh-eight in the goddamn morning, and you had to be up for work in four hours—you didn’t have it in you to be tolerant, not when—THUMP!—you’d barely gotten enough sleep as it was. You tore open the door to your apartment, glaring down the hallway hatefully.

THUMP!

You clenched your fists, before taking a deep breath and knocking on the door labeled J. Barnes. You waited with baited breath for a few minutes before you knocked again, this time louder. Finally—finally—the banging stopped, and you heard an irritated sigh from the other side of the door.

“What?”

You scoffed. Unbelievable. You glared at the door incredulously. He wasn’t even going to open the damn door to talk to you after making enough noise to wake up the whole block?!

“It’s 3:08 in the morning, would you mind not hammering on the wall?” You snapped, placing your on your hips. “Some of us have to work in the morning.” You could hear the sound of the door chain being unlatched, and you stepped back a little as the door swung open.

Oh my god. He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his muscular chest. You swallowed audibly, forcing your eyes to stop traveling down the light dusting of hair just below his navel. Instead, they found the welted, angry skin connecting what looked to be a Stark-level prosthetic to his shoulder. You licked suddenly dry lips. You hadn’t actually seen your neighbor before, though if you’d known he was built like goddamn Hercules, you might have been more inclined to keep a civil tongue in your head.

“What’s the problem?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you. You hoped like hell he hadn’t witnessed the momentary departure of all of your brain function. You cleared your throat.

“It’s um, it’s late.” You stammered, cursing yourself. Get it together girl. “And you’re being really loud.” He held a hammer loosely in his metal hand, a testament to the construction he’d just been taking part in. You grew bolder. “Maybe try doing your remodeling during regular hours?” You suggested snippily, crossing your arms. His eyes traveled lower, and suddenly you were painfully aware that you weren’t wearing a bra. You were still in your pajamas, a tank-top and shorts that were probably too small to be decent. You quickly uncrossed your arms, not missing the lascivious smirk that spread across his handsome features.

“See that’s the problem doll,” He said, clearly enjoying the way you fumed at the pet-name. “I work during ‘regular people hours’.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you tried not to lick your lips as his muscles bunched and flexed under his skin. “So you can kind of see my problem.”

“You’re not the only person in the building,” You snapped. “Other people live here too.”

“And you’re the only one complaining.” He replied easily, and you fought the urge to stomp your foot. It was the lack of sleep making you tired and irritable, you already knew this, but his flippant attitude certainly wasn’t helping. You wanted to scream, but you held it in—barely.

“Look. It’s 3:08 in the morning, and—”

“3:15, actually.”

“—AND you’re making it impossible for me to sleep. My bedroom is right behind…whatever the hell you’re doing in here.” You continued, ignoring his snide interruption.

“Poor thing,” He grinned wolfishly at you, his eyes tracing the outline of your breasts hungrily through your shirt. “I’d hate to keep you out of bed.” Your face heated, and you sputtered at him.

“J-just keep it down, okay?” Your voice came out shrill and squeaky, and you winced, turning on your heel. “Some of us are trying to sleep!” You started back down the hallway towards your own apartment, feeling his eyes on your back the whole way.

You slammed your door harder than necessary, and made your way back to your bedroom, your heart pounding a little harder in your chest when you realized that only about three feet of wall separated you from your hot—irritating—neighbor. You laid back down in bed, pressing your face into the pillows.

THUMP!

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

You threw yourself back out of bed, forgoing even your slippers this time as you marched back down the hall. You banged on his door again, all semblance of patience gone. He opened it, smirking down at you.

“Yes?” He had the hammer in his hand again, held loosely against his hip. You said nothing as your hand snaked forward, snatching it from his fingers. He was surprised and you used it to your advantage, speeding back down the hall and locking your door as he stared at you, open mouthed.

“Poor thing,” You said mockingly, tossing the hammer onto your counter. He could have it back when he could be responsible with it, goddammit. Until then, you would be keeping it in your custody until Mr. J. Barnes could prove that he wasn’t a threat to your nightly rest. You heard him shuffling down the hallway to knock on your door rather forcefully—but you ignored him. He knocked another time, before you heard him curse loudly on the other side of the door.

“Open up, doll.”

You yawned loudly. “I don’t think I will. I’m actually about to head to bed, so…” You drawled, smirking triumphantly at him through the peep-hole. “Maybe you should too.”

“Very funny. Now open up and give me my tools back, doll.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Barnes.” A heavy thump shook your apartment, and you yelped with surprise—he’d pounded his fist heavily against it.

“This is all very funny,” He growled lowly, in a voice that told you he didn’t actually think it was funny at all. “But I’m serious now. I want my shit.” You scowled. He was the one who’d woken you at the asscrack of dawn with his very un-neighborly racket, and promptly refused to quiet down. You weren’t just standing up for yourself, no—you were making a stand for the twelve other tenants in the building too.

“You want me to give your hammer back?” You hissed through the wood. “Make me.”

The sound of splintering wood was ringing in your ears as his metal fist came easily through the thick wood of your front door, wrapping around the handle as he unlocked it. The door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud bang as you gaped at him. “Y-you can’t—!” His nostrils flared as he looked at you, sprawled on the floor in front of your—now useless—door.

He grabbed your wrist, tugging you to your feet. “Gettin’ real tired of you telling me what I can and can’t do, sweetheart.” He growled, crushing his lips to yours. You gasped in surprise, and he drank the sound greedily, groaning against you. “Fuckin tease—s’this what passes for clothes now?” His hands found your ass, gripping it tightly through the paper thin fabric of your little shorts. You squirmed against him, moaning low in your throat. He delivered a stinging slap to your ass, groaning when you yelped against his lips.

“Shhh,” He said softly, massaging the sore spot he’d just left with cool, metal fingers. He kicked the door shut behind him, walking you further into the apartment. “You’re a real fuckin’ brat, aren’t you doll?” He asked cupping your chin with firm, gentle fingers. You shook your head defiantly. You weren’t sure how this had gone from a disagreement with your neighbor about his after-hours noise level to him punching a hole in your door and then marching inside to deliver the hottest kiss of your life, but here you were. You could feel embarrassing slick gathering between your thighs, and did your best to ignore it.

“N-no! And you need to leave,” You said hotly. “Before I call—” Another sharp slap made you cry out, jerking in his arms. “Ow!”

“Bratty little girls don’t make the rules,” His voice was a low rumble in your ear. “I do.” You sucked a sharp breath into your lungs as he walked you backwards toward your kitchen table. You hated him ordering you around—and more than that, you hated how wet the calm, firm delivery of each command was making you.

“You’re the one breaking into people’s apartments,” You snapped, struggling in his grip, the warm metal whirring as you flailed. This was crazy—you were crazy. You should have been screaming down the building; calling the building manager, calling the cops—but you didn’t. His blue eyes were locked on your face, and you were almost afraid to meet them.

“Only because you stole from me.” He pulled out a chair with his free hand, seating himself. The world flipped on its head as he grabbed you, turning you face down over his lap. Your belly hit his thighs and the wind rushed out of your lungs, leaving you in stunned silence. He clucked his tongue at you as his hands began unabashedly moving over the exposed cheeks of your ass. Your shorts were barely managing to help you retain even an inch of your modesty, and you shivered as cool air moved over the damp spot of cloth covering your pussy. He groped you unabashedly, massaging the cheeks of your ass with slow, satisfied movements, as though he had all the time in the world.

“I didn’t steal from you—” You protested, but your complaint was cut off with another resounding slap that you heard before you felt it. “Ow—stop that!” You whined, kicking your legs uselessly as you tried to wriggle off of his lap.

“You want another one for lying, sweetness?” He asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“I’m not—” SMACK. “Fuck! Stop it!”

He soothed the sting with cool, gentle circles of his metal hand. He ran his fingers through your hair affectionately, wrapping a curl tightly around his thumb before releasing it.

“Now doll. You’re never gonna learn manners if I don’t punish you when you break the rules.” He spanked you again, and the pained cry that tore from your lips ended in a strangled moan. Your face heated, and you pressed it against the leg of his joggers to hide it. You could practically hear the grin dripping from his words. “Oh baby, I think you liked that one.” He chuckled, his fingers dipping between the throbbing cheeks of your ass.

“I don’t need my loud neighbor to teach me manners—hey, no, stop—!!” Your protests came too late, and his cool fingers slid wetly against the swollen lips of your cunt. You were glad that in this position, you couldn’t see the smug, knowing expression you were sure graced his handsome features.

“No?” He asked mockingly, dragging his fingers up and down your slit to collect as much of your wetness as he could. “Could have fooled me.” Your cheeks burned with humiliation, even as your pussy clenched hungrily. He slid one, thick finger into your wet heat, groaning softly. “Fucking tight, too,” He cursed. “Gonna stretch you open on my cock, brat.” He curled his finger inside you, slapping your ass again lightly with his other hand. “Nothin’ to say, huh? Figured you’d shut that smart fuckin’ mouth when I got my hands on you.”

You wanted to tell him to fuck off, that he had no fucking idea what he was talking about—but currently your mouth was busy hanging open, your eyes squeezed shut as he alternated between slipping his fingers into your eager pussy, and laying quick, stinging blows on the soft flesh of your ass. You could feel his hard cock pushing into your belly through his pants, throbbing hotly against you as you squirmed. His calloused thumb circled your clit and you whined, pushing your hips back into his hand. He flicked it and you jerked, burying your teeth in his calf. He hissed, gripping your ass hard with his free hand.

“Fuck.” He hissed under his breath as his cock pulsed against your belly. You grinned, but your pleasure was short lived as he delivered a series of harsh spanks, forcing you to cry out. You pushed at his legs, hitting at them uselessly as he held you still, his fingers still damp with you.

“Looks like nobody ever gave you a proper spanking, sweetheart,” He growled. “But I’ll fix that.” You howled with pain, uncaring if any of the neighbors heard you. When you were sobbing softly against his leg, your pussy soaked and twitching, he righted you, spreading your legs across his lap. “You ready to be good for me, doll?” He asked, tilting your chin up for another kiss. You nodded breathlessly. He reached for the waistband of your shorts, the now warm metal humming against your skin as he tore them easily. He bit his lip at the sight of you, scrubbing a hand down his stubbled chin. “Fuck.”

He didn’t bother taking off his joggers, just sliding them down far enough for the fat head of his cock to spring out, slapping against his stomach. You clenched, suddenly aware of how achingly empty you were. “You want this dick, sweetness?” He asked, tugging your top down to expose your breasts. You nodded eagerly, your eyes flicking up to his and then back down. You reached for him, your hand wrapping around the base and working up to the tip. He grinned. “Then you better ask real nice.”

You swallowed thickly. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Not good enough doll. Try again.” You pouted at him. He slid the head of his cock against you, and you hissed, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Can you please fuck me, Mr. Barnes.”

“Mmm, I like that. Say it again.”

“Please fuck me, Mr. Barnes,” You moaned as he pushed the head of his cock against you, popping it just inside. He cursed, throwing his head back as his eyes slid shut.

“God fucking damn.” He fucked up into you, expletives falling continuously from his lips as he helped you ride him. “So good,” He grunted, his fingers tightening hard on your hips. “Should’a done this weeks ago.” You felt so full, and his hands were everywhere. Ghosting over your back, tweaking your nipples and slapping your already sore ass. You already felt heat building in your belly, tension forcing you to move your hips faster, angle him deeper—and he grabbed your hips, pulling your down hard against him. He swore, pulling you off of him.

You only had time to moan once in complaint before he bent you over the table, kicking your legs apart as he fisted his cock with his other hand, lining himself quickly back up with the tight hole he’d just been occupying.

“Shi-it,” He groaned as he slid in slowly, not stopping until his hips were pressed tightly against the curve of your ass. He fucked you hard, hard enough to shake the little vase of flowers from your table and send it crashing to the floor. Your eyes rolled in your head as your pussy clenched hard around him. So close—

“You gonna cum, baby?” He asked, his hand sliding up your spine to cup the back of your neck, pressing you harder into the table.

“Oh fuck,” You mewled, nodding. “Yes, yes, yes—” You clamped down around him like a vice, fresh wetness coating his cock and the table beneath you as you came harder than you could ever fucking remember—right on your kitchen table. His cock was twitching, his hips still moving against you as you felt answering sticky heat coat your insides. He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, his lips moving silently against your skin in what you could only assume were either praises or curses.

He pulled out of you reluctantly, and it took every ounce of your strength to turn around and look at him, your head still fuzzy. He sat heavily back down in the chair, dragging a hand across his sweaty forehead.

“So…” You asked, trying and failing to stand straight on your still shaking legs. “What’s, um… your name?” You asked, and he laughed.

“Bucky.”

“I hope you’re good with that stupid hammer, Bucky,” You panted. “Because you’re gonna fix my door.”

Fin.

#dark!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #smut #boxofbonesfic #fic request #punemy-spotted

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magical-girl-coral · 2 years

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A Thing About Beauty

Orihime learns a new forbidden word in Las Noches

(AO3 link)

Gin cracked his neck as he and Orihime left Aizen’s chamber of mental torture. They were three weeks into this disaster, and today he had to give a hand when things almost went to shit. At least no one was around when they left. It was one of the few times Gin could complain without someone yammering about how he should be grateful to be in Aizen’s presence for so long.

Orihime frowned. “I think I’ve been eating too much junk food. It makes my body look weird.”

Orihime heaved out a small sigh as they exited the healing dome, and Gin gave her a small glance. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re about to faint again.”

“No, it’s not that. I’ve already gotten used to the tiredness from a healing session,” Orihime answered sullenly. She started twisting one of her bangs. “Does my hair look oily to you?”

Gin hummed in confusion. “Dunno? I don’t really notice this kinda stuff.”

Gin raised a brow. “So you’re blaming this on me?”

“No, no, no!” Orihime said back quickly, waving her hands around, “The foods you bring with you to these sessions are a lifesaver. I’ve been drinking more juice than water, and there’s a lot of saltine in my lunches and sweets. Maybe I need to go on a diet.

As soon as the word ‘diet’ left Orihime’s mouth, Charlotte ran through the wall with a dramatic entrance making both of them jump out of their skin as their hair glamorously waved in the halls’ none existing wind. Gin would have said something about that if he wasn’t so dumbfounded.

Charlotte grabbed Orihime by the shoulder, dipped her, and tenderly cupped her right cheek. “Don’t you dare say those awful words again. You are a beautiful young woman with a perfectly healthy body that doesn’t need any changes, do you hear me? You are gorgeous in ways that no language on this earth can explain, you exquisite, golden-hearted child.” They then slapped the back of their hand against their forehead while dipping Orihime even lower. “Oh, the tragedy of today’s youth! Never seeing their own beauty or knowing how to use it. Constantly fighting every day for the perfect body, never knowing what they already have is perfection. Oh, how this makes my heart ache! I cannot let this wonderful girl fall under the same beliefs. For it is my duty towards true beauty to prevent so.”

“AND YOU!” Charlotte added as they sat a shocked Orihime on their shoulder and pointed at Gin. “I don’t know what you two were talking about but don’t you dare put those thoughts in her head again! I know your kind. You and your naturally skinny body that somehow has abs are a nightmare for the average person. I bet you love how you make everyone feel bad about themselves, don’t you?!”

Gin’s jaw dropped. People liked his body? “I-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Charlotte threw Orihime over their shoulder. “This injustice will not stand! I’m going to give you the makeover of your life that will bring out all your best features to exorcize those evil thoughts from your head. DO THE BEAUTY PALACE.”

Orihime snapped out of her shock. “CHARLOTTE, WAIT-”

But it was too late by then. Orihime’s first and last scream of protest went unheard as Charlotte stole her away. Gin continued to stand there, and after a long period of silence, he finally able to choke something out:

“What the actual fuck.”

Ulquiorra walked towards the fellow Espada. “Grimmjow, do you know where the human girl is?”

Grimmjow tensed. “How the hell should I know? Aren’t you the one that’s should be looking after her?”

“I am, but she heals Aizen-sama today and was supposed to be here by now. Ah, never mind that. I can sense that she is right behind us-” Ulquiorra's words died as he turned, and Grimmjow understood why.

The princess looked as if she’s been through a sparkly hell. There were literal sparks around her head, her hair shined bright enough to blind a bitch, and her skin was clean enough to look like high-quality plastic. There’s was only one explanation for this.

“Charlotte got you?” Both Espada asked.

“Charlotte got me,” the princess confirmed, ”I can’t feel my face.”

“Don’t sweat about it. It’ll wear off in an hour or two.” Grimmjow glanced at her pockets. “And they gave you some of their handmade shampoos. You got the full treatment, all right.”

“Is that what is it? I was too scared to ask.” Orihime's cheek twitched. “Oh, thank god, I think I can move some of my muscles again.”

Grimmjow grimaced in rare sympathy. No one was able to fight Charlotte when it came to makeovers. Grimmjow was just happy for her that she was allowed to keep most of her eyebrows.

#i wanted to write so many cool aid man memes in these #why did bleach have to take place in the early 2000 when that wasn't a meme #Bleach #Charlotte Chuhlhourne #Orihime Inoue #just tagging the central characters but gin ulqui and grimmjow make an appearance too #au rambles

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himmelheim · 2 years

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Where do I begin?

Chief shoveling in the forest a la NCIS or whatever, but at least it was short enough a scene. Meh.

Poor Cortana didn't know what was going on, I just want to give her a hug.

And Kai. And Riz & Vannak (these 3 were so cool this episode). And John. Aaaand Miranda, and hell even Kwan, Makee (tho their storylines are so cliche, almost boring tbh). Everyone gets a hug.

Kai exploring her humanity (yooo serious summer 00s/10s vibes from her hair) and the whole Science & Trauma girltalk with Miranda, Miranda realizing the Spartans are victims as much as they are demigods; Chief teasing Cortana, there was a lot I liked.

Halsey's perverted minion does NOT get a hug tho, that one gets pushed into a volcano. He also feels like an ONI dude? I just feel he's going to do something against Chief at some point (I hope he gets his head ripped off)

Halsey, the killer of Ivan the Terrible. And other pets, a la Kingsman. Jfc.

Great acting by Natasha McElhorne, as always.

So glad with the coin flip tho! That scene was top notch, with John staring at her like "we got to deal with the Covenant now but we're gonna have a little chat after that's done".

Kwan storyline tho. It was so cliche and boring, and just when I think "ok she can't be any more stupid than that" she gets stupider. Like Soren was just there to voice our thoughts "stop that, face reality and get the fuck off the planet".

I suppose the desert mystics are gonna tell her something something Forerunner that she'll have to tell John and that gets everyone back on Madrigal, but eeeeh.

It was just cliche boring AND irritating. It just slowed down the whole episode.

Makee's storyline has its problems too, but it didn't put me in a state where I either am about to doze off or want to bang my head against the wall for HALF AN EPISODE.

EDIT: Apparently one of the producers has written for NCIS before. So...I mean, I didn't mean it literally but yeah

#cortana and kai my queens #cortana #kai 125 #halo #halo the series spoilers #halo tv show #halo the series

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marmolady · 3 years

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New Horizons

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, Graleister

Summary: Endless Ending. Liv and Reggie are starting school in San Trobida. Notes at the end!

Word Count: 9695

Chronology: After 'Growing Pains', before 'How the time escapes me...'

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic

Thanks for reading!

San Trobida, July 2035

“Hey, Auntie Grace!”

Reggie looked up from his book at the sound of his cousin’s voice, and hastily placed aside his shiny new copy of ‘A Guide to San Trobidan History’ so he could rush out into the hallway.

Grace was already wrapping Liv in a hug. “Hello, sweetheart.” She kissed the side of her niece’s head, before her eyes wandered down to a bloodied knee. “Did you have a mishap on your bike on the way here?”

“Yeah… I clipped the kerb and crashed,” Liv said, offering her aunt a better view of her wound. As she heard Reggie’s footsteps, she looked up to meet his eye and smiled.

“Youch!” Reggie offered sympathetically as he came close enough to peer over Liv’s grazed knee.

Liv shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

Grace, though, was more concerned. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell?”

“No, just scraped my knee. It does actually sting a bit.”

“Hmm. Well, I think we’d better put some anti-septic that knee just to be safe.”

The new house was a mess. Boxes and misplaced furniture filled every room, and the twins-- six years old-- had been making forts with the packing boxes that had been emptied so far. The family had been in the house for just over a day, and some good progress had already been made. There had been a lot that had been left behind. Neither Aleister nor Grace put too much value on material possessions, so most of what had come with them and the children to their new home in San Trobida had been essential furniture, and the mountains of photo albums and memorabilia from a life with the kids.

Grace sat Liv down on a wooden ottoman, and, after a little bit of rummaging, found the first aid kit.

“Okay, this might hurt just a little,” she said gently, and she carefully dabbed Liv’s graze.

Liv yelped, “Fuck!”, causing Reggie to gasp, looking to his mother for a reaction, and Erin and Immy to burst out giggling from inside their box-fort.

Grace raised an eyebrow, but her warm smile didn’t shift. “It stings that much?”

“Yeah…,” Liv said, flushing a little. “Sorry about the language.”

“I’m sure I didn’t hear a thing.”

There was the usual bustling around as Aleister got the girls into their shoes; Immy and Erin had decided that swapping one shoe with one another was the peak of humour, but eventually, their father managed to get them each into a left and a right-- even if they didn’t match. Six-and-a-half-year-old sisters, Reggie had come to realise, made just about everything more of a headache than necessary.

Eventually, though, they were on their way. His mom and dad, walking beside the twins as they pootled along on their bicycles, had the address, but Reggie rode ahead with Liv, taking her lead as she zig-zagged through the streets of Valle Brava. Having only set foot on San Trobidan soil as a new resident some twenty-four hours ago, everything aspect of his environment set his senses alight. This wasn’t like being back in America. Perhaps it was the tropical climate, but he was reminded much more of La Huerta-- of home. Liv certainly seemed right at home here. She and her mothers had settled a few weeks before, and Liv had been coming here pretty much all her life. There were just a few blocks between their respective houses, and the wide cycle paths along the bitumen roads made for an easy journey. This, Reggie had been told, was a newly developed area; much had been re-built since the war he knew his Tia Estela had been involved in. The cycle paths ended as they came nearer to Liv’s place, a little way out of the main township. The foliage on either side of the road became thicker, and there was less street noise, more birdsong.

“Beat you!” Liv announced as she planted her feet into the ground, forcing her bicycle to a stop.

Reggie grumbled, pulling up beside his cousin in front of a humble bungalow-style house with outer walls a vibrant azure blue against yellow accents. The sound of a dog barking-- unmistakably Liv’s Robin, was further confirmation they’d arrived. “You didn’t beat me, Livia. I was following you. I didn’t even know where we were going.”

“Jeez, dude. No one likes a sore loser….”

“I am not a--!”

The door swung open.

“Reggie!” Taylor wasted no time in sweeping her nephew into a hug. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe you still have the energy for cycling over here-- didn’t you move house, like, yesterday?”

Reggie laughed. “Hi, Auntie Taylor!” There was something about seeing a familiar face in this new environment that made the pieces seem to click into place. Family made it home. “I’m a little bit tired but mostly just excited. I did sleep in today, so I guess I won’t crash until later.” His sisters on the other hand… there was no way they’d last the evening without overtiredness rearing its ugly head.

“I’m guessing your mom and dad are on their way with the girls?”

“Yeah,” said Liv, “but they’re pretty slow. I don’t have to wait to give Reggie the grand tour, do I?”

“Knock yourself out, kid. Hang on, Liv? Walk your bike through the house, please.”

“I was gonna!”

Reggie could only smirk. Like hell you were….

“Aaaand,” Liv finished off with a flourish, “this is my room!” She opened the door to a good-sized bedroom. It seemed to Reggie that what floor-space wasn’t taken up by the bed was piled up with boxes.

“I mean, I can’t say the mess wasn’t a clue.”

Liv gave her cousin a look as she flopped into her bed. “Hey-- moving house is hard. You’ll see soon enough. You get started all excited, but once you start living your life, you kinda get… stuck. Mama Taylor says we’re going to just blitz it all next weekend, and throw ourselves a pizza party as a reward.”

Reggie got up onto the bed and crossed his legs. “Do you like it here?”

“I love it here! I always liked coming here when I was little, so I guess it doesn’t feel like something completely different. I reckon my tio abuelo is over the moon that we’re here for good; it’s like I’ve got a grandparent now.” Liv’s cheeks flushed pink, and she glanced away.

Understanding, Reggie nodded. Together, they’d grown up in a family that didn’t take the traditional shape. There were some things that simply couldn’t be explained to other friends; like why Reggie’s grandma could help him with his homework, but could never come in for grandparents’ day, and why Liv had a whole side of the family with no grandparents at all-- not even dead ones.

“And,” Liv continued, “people don’t really look at my Mama Estela funny. I noticed that years ago. I guess ‘cause of the war, people don’t look twice at someone who’s maybe a little bit banged-up. I got so sick of it back in America. Every time we met someone new, they’d put on that ‘God, what happened?’ face. Maybe Mom doesn’t want to explain the whole ‘revolutionary in a civil war’ thing to every random person who can’t mind their own business. Some people have scars-- big freaking deal. It’s better here.”

“Yeah, that would be a nice change. The amount of times I’ve seen you and Auntie Taylor look at a nosy idiot like you want to deck ‘em--”

Liv burst out laughing. “True, that.”

The sound of excited barking rang out from the backyard. It seemed pretty likely to Reggie that his parents and sisters had just arrived. When he and Liv arrived in the backyard, Erin had already joined Estela at the barbecue, desperate to be involved, while Immy was passionately talking to Nicolas about goodness-knows-what. Reggie made a mental note to rescue him in a few minutes; that kid could be intense, and the poor old guy had come out here for a relaxing lunch with his niece.

Nicely, but firmly, Reggie nudged the wriggling, writhing form of Robin the dog to the side so he could join his mother and Auntie Taylor at the large alfresco table under the porch. And Robin returned to his favoured position at the feet of the barbecue-- Erin was just a kid, surely, she’d drop something….

“Do you need a hand with the salads?” Reggie asked as he greeted his mother with a hug. He’d been seeking a lot of those. With so much changing, familial comfort meant a lot, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Perhaps more than anything, though, he was grateful to have Liv by his side. It was the way it had always been; from their toddler days on La Huerta, through elementary school, to their adventures in home-schooling. Some things might change-- some things might change immeasurably-- but he always had his cousin.

___________________________

La Huerta, 2028

Liv yelled out as she splashed down into the shallow surf. “Reggie!”

“I got her, Xiraana!” Reggie cried, and soon he was joined by a young Vaanti girl, who helped restrain their victim.

“No, no!” Liv squealed as she struggled. Vaanti kids, she’d long ago realised, were strong. “You’ll never take me alive!”

“Five-- four--- three….” Xiraana counted down, not letting Liv out of her grasp.

“Two-- one!” Reggie finished triumphantly, and he let his cousin fall unceremoniously back into the water. “The klaawyi ate all the meat off your bones. You’re one of us now!”

Liv pouted, but admitted defeat. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen; she was pretty good on Team Klaawyi anyway. Or, she would have been… had she not seen the figure of her favourite uncle descending onto the beach from the great tree of Elyys’tel.

“Tio Diegoooooo! Hiiiii!” Liv ran across the sand, almost tripping in her desperation to reach him.

“Hey, Livia!” Reggie cried out, indignant at being suddenly abandoned. “You’re meant to help us catch them!”

But Diego had crouched down to wrap Liv in a hug, and Reggie might as well be talking to a pile of rocks for all that was being absorbed.

“Tio, they got me! Reggie and Xiraana got me, and now I’m a klaawyi!”

“You?” Diego laughed. “You’re no klaawyi-- I’ve never seen a klaawyi that was ticklish!”

“Wha--?” Oh no. Once again, Liv was shrieking with mirth, this time dodging the tickling hands of her tio.

Still standing in the shallows, Reggie stomped his foot, which achieved little but splashing himself in the face. The game went on without them; games of Klaawyi Chase didn’t stop for anyone. The usual fun on the beaches outside Elyys’tel would go on like this every day… whether Reggie and Liv were there to join in or not. And Reggie didn’t want to miss out now.

“Come on, Livia!”

She just shook her head, not letting her adoring gaze up at Diego slip for so much as a heartbeat. “Nah,” she said. “I’m done.”

Torn, knowing that whichever direction he ran in, he’d lose out on precious time with friends, Reggie admitted defeat and rushed back to Liv’s side on the shore. He looked back over his shoulder and waved goodbye-- for what he’d been told would likely be a long, long time. Engrossed in their game, his friends gave just the most fleeting of farewells before continuing to race through the small waves that lapped the beach.

Liv, in contrast, had eyes only for her tio. She clasped his hand tightly; if she held on tight enough, perhaps he’d have no choice but to come with her to wherever her mothers were taking her in the big aeroplane.

Where exactly she was going, Liv didn’t quite understand. It was away from La Huerta, but they weren’t going back to live with Tio Nicolas, they were going… someplace else. Someplace with no Tio Diego and Varyyn, where all the other kids would be boring shades of pink and brown rather than blue and green, and where no one knew about the yeti-bear, or the magic crystal alien that made her mom, or about The Story of the Year the World Stopped.

“I want you to come, Tio Diego…,” Liv softly beseeched.

Diego’s eyes grew misty, her earnest words having tipped him over the edge after what had been a long period of emotional build-up. Goodbyes were never easy, and Liv’s family was his family. He squeezed her little hand gently.

“I’ll visit you, Livi-- I promise. Cross my heart. And your mommies will bring you over to visit us here too; you are going to learn so many new games at school that you can teach Xiraana and the other kids.”

“But I’ll miss you…”

Having rejoined Liv, Reggie peered up at Diego’s teary face with concern. “Diego, you’re making your glasses all foggy.”

“Ha. I know, I know!” Diego wiped his eyes. “You might have a point there, Reggie; I want to spend this last night with you guys actually being able to see you!”

Liv giggled and wrapped her arms around her uncle’s legs, only to be peeled off and hoisted into the air. “We can still have fun until bedtime, can’t we? Will you tell us a story?”

On the ground, Reggie danced around, his arms waving. Diego-time was the best story-time.

In the arms of her tio, her playmate since she was a baby bouncing on his knee, Liv was a mess of emotions; of fear and excitement, of merriment that competed with the looming sorrow. It was more than her little self had a clue what to do with. She was only five.

Sensing his cousin’s turmoil, Reggie reached up a hand and took hold of Liv’s, hanging down by Diego’s side. “Don’t worry, Livia! If you worry, you won’t enjoy story-time.”

Liv stuck out her bottom lip. That little nerd-face could be pretty smart sometimes. Tomorrow night, there would be no goodnight story from Tio Diego, but tomorrow night was not now-- now, everything was as it should be. Her wavering grin returned, and to her delight, it brought matching smiles to the faces of her companions.

“Do you think Varyyn, and my mommies, and Auntie Grace and Uncle Alli, and Auntie Grace’s tummy babies want to listen to the story too?”

“Yeah,” Diego said, letting Liv back down to the ground, where she immediately found another hug in Reggie’s arms, “I think everyone would really like that.”

_____________________________

San Trobida, August 2035

“I don’t get it,” Liv said thoughtfully, as the car rolled right on past the turn for her Auntie Grace and Uncle Al’s place. “It’s right on the way; wouldn’t it have been easier for us to pick up Reggie?”

“Hon,” Taylor replied, “I think Reggie wanted his mom and dad to take him to orientation. They’ll probably be better at helping with his jitters than we would be.”

“I guess.” Liv looked out the window, watching the surrounding vegetation thicken once more as the car followed the road up out of the valley. “Orientation Day shouldn’t be too bad, right? Just, like, meeting our teachers, learning where stuff is, that kinda thing?” And you’ll have to try and make friends. That would be a laugh.

By the time they pulled up at the Las Selvas Secondary School, however, Liv fully understood her cousin’s nerves, and realised that was probably why she’d been so disappointed that he didn’t share a car with her. Through every big change in their young lives, his presence had been a reassuring constant.

“Uggghh,” she groaned. “Can I change my mind? Home-schooling was all right; more of that, please.”

Estela leaned from the front seat and gave Liv’s knee a squeeze. “You know, I don’t think he’d ever say it, but I’m pretty sure Reggie would be really scared if he had to walk into this without you. Besides, you were so excited about starting here; you owe it to yourself to at least giving it a shot.”

Again, Liv groaned, this time even louder. “It’s so annoying when you’re right.”

“Story of my life,” Taylor laughed, while Estela smirked.

When they pulled up at the school, Reggie was already waiting, standing beside the car-park while his parents fussed over him.

“You have your phone?” Grace quizzed, checking for the fourth time since they’d set off.

“I told you, yes!” Reggie replied, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket to wave around for good measure. “I’ll send you a message when I’m ready to be picked up, I promise.”

“In that case, you just have a wonderful time, darling.” She wrapped him in a hug-- already Reggie was easily as tall as her. “Go well, and have fun.”

Liv rushed over, all smiles. Her own nerves were a whole lot less bothersome when she had the distraction of friendly faces.

There were a few more rounds of hugs exchanged-- and then, suddenly, Liv and Reggie were on their own.

“You wanna head over? Looks like people are already crowding around-- it’s probably gonna start soon.”

Reggie’s expression brightened, as if he’d been just waiting for a little push for his confidence to surge back forth. “Well, it will hardly be an auspicious start here if we miss the principal’s address. Get a move on, Livia!”

The morning passed relatively quickly. Liv placed herself next to Reggie at all times-- they’d been put in the same Grade Seven home room as requested, making him one of the eldest in the class, and her one of the youngest. The whole set-up wasn’t entirely different to the school they were accustomed to, other than the bilingual approach. They were given a small pile of boring paperwork, and outlines of what to expect in their new classes; as English was their first language, they’d be taking ‘Spanish as a Second Language’, and Liv was also excited about ‘Nature Studies’, a subject she’d never been offered in America.

As far as Liv was concerned, the most traumatic part of the session was being expected to stand up in front of a room of strangers and give a short spiel about themselves. The perfect opportunity to officially balls-up any chance they might have of making new friends, or at least that was how she saw it. She mumbled down into her chest; something about enjoying hiking and gymnastics, something about liking Batman, and animals, and then she hurriedly sat right back down with flaming cheeks. Reggie, she observed, handled the brief foray into public speaking with rather more poise. Even though he was shy-- perhaps even more than she was-- he seemed able to go into ‘school presentation’ mode, and breeze through. When he sat back down, though, his hands were shaking-- but that was for the eyes of his trusted friend only.

When the lunch break came along, Liv was ravenous; a new and challenging social situation could do that to a person. While Reggie sloped off to the bathrooms, she tested out the school canteen, emerging a little while later with a hot empanada. It wasn’t quite as good as her Mama Estela’s, but it was definitely a step up from what was on offer at her old school. Maybe she could get used to this place….

Liv watched this new world go by all around her as she ate, cross-legged beneath the tree she’d told her cousin to meet her by. Kids moved in their little circles, talking loudly, laughing. Most of them coming into Grade Seven had come from the local primary school, and many knew each-other. Liv and Reggie would be starting out on the outside… and that was daunting. She could not be more grateful that she wasn’t taking this on alone.

Or… at least, she shouldn’t be. The lunchtime queue moved on, the gaggles of kids spread out, and still Reggie hadn’t returned.

Damn, constipated on your first day. Sucks to be you, Reggie.

Tentatively, Liv approached the boys’ bathroom and, having ascertained that no one was watching, slipped in. Her footsteps were unheard, drowned out by the loud, frantic breathing of young Reggie, slumped over the sink. Alarmed, Liv rushed over. Tears were spilling down his cheeks.

“Reggie… it’s okay,” she said gently. A little unsure, she reached out a hand to rub his back, and to her surprise, he didn’t flinch away. Slowly, he seemed to regain control of himself.

“Liv…,” Reggie panted. “You know you’re not meant to be in here; this is the guys’ room.”

“Hey! Like it’s my fault you didn’t take your anxiety attack into the unisex bathroom. That’s on you.” Hmph. Ungrateful, much?

Reggie scowled, and dragged his cousin out of the toilet block by her arm. He slumped down by the wall, and scooched over to encourage her to join him.

“You’re a pain in the arse.” He was still shaking.

“It’s been said, yeah.” Liv huddled a little closer. “You don’t need to worry, okay? You’re not going to have any trouble making friends. Did you see they’ve got a chess club, and a photography club as well? At least that’ll get you talking to people.”

“That’s,” Reggie said quietly, “not exactly what I’m worried about.” When Liv looked at him expectantly, he continued. “When I was in a room with all those kids, my head just went back to being at our old school… and what happened. I know this place is meant to be progressive and all that, but that doesn’t mean that everyone’s okay. What if I think I’ve made friends with someone, and they find out about Erin, and they make it a big thing, and then some arsehole finds out….”

“Man, you’re really spiraling,” Liv observed, not especially helpfully. She wasn’t exactly surprised by what was troubling her cousin; getting into a fight in defense of his young transgender sister had completely unseated Reggie from the comfortable life he’d had at the last school. It had changed everything.

“You would too, if she was your sister!”

“Probably. But I think you should at least give people a go. It sounds like they’re really strict on any kind of bullying against minorities. Swinging back hard in the opposite direction after that fascist dictatorship.”

“Those are some awfully big words for you to be throwing around there, Livia; watch you don’t hurt yourself….”

“Hey! I know my stuff!” Liv demanded. “Do you think my tio abuelo would have it any other way? But anyway, I’m right. All the people who didn’t fit in before have come to this part of the country. Probably a lot of the kids have parents who saw really horrible things in the war; they wouldn’t want to send them somewhere that was bad like before. My Mama ‘Stel gave the principal the grilling of her life, and I bet she hasn’t been the only one. People are gonna want to make sure their kids are being looked after.”

A smile quirked on Reggie’s face as he imagined his aunt on a school tour. “I bet Tia Estela left Principal Sanchez quivering under the desk.”

“Yeah… after what happened in the last school, there’s no way they’d let us go anywhere unless they were sure it was a place that treated people right.”

Reggie knew that much. But his parents, and even his fierce aunt, could not shield himself, his sisters and his cousin, from everything. He contemplated silently, grateful for the patient companionship.

“I guess,” he said at last, “if no one gave anyone else a chance to be anything but the worst, then we’d be pretty lonely.”

“Yup. We should at least give it a shot. And if it all goes in the crapper, I’ll sic my moms on the fools that mess with us. And the freaking yeti.”

Reggie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. That had always been Liv’s answer to everything. “Livia, I hate to break it to you, but if you go around threatening people with yetis, everyone’s gonna think you’ve got a screw loose. Except me; I know you’ve got a screw loose.”

“So damn rude,” Liv growled. “Anyway, you really should eat something. It probably won’t help you feeling crap and light-headed if you’ve got an empty stomach. They’ve got arepas!”

“...I could eat an arepa,” Reggie admitted. There was only so much a young boy of thirteen could control; he couldn’t wave a magic wand and guarantee that his little sister would never be hurt by cruel, ignorant words, but he could look after himself, so that he was the best him he could be-- and the best brother.

_____________________________

USA, 2028

“You did a great job, sweetheart,” Taylor said kindly as Reggie delicately placed his knife and fork atop his small plastic plate, signaling that he’d finished. Immediately afterwards, the little boy’s small hand had dropped to his side to get a reassuring touch of his teddy’s scruffy fur. “It was nice of Big Bear to join us for dinner. Does he like lasagna as much as you do?”

Reggie yawned widely as he nodded to his aunt. He hadn’t known it was possible for a kid to be so full of yawns, but living with newborn twins had shown him just how big a tired feeling could be. “Big Bear likes to watch from the floor.”

“That’s nice of him to let you have the whole plate for yourself. We’re gonna have plenty to bring over to your mommy and daddy for them to eat tomorrow.”

Lasagna had been Reggie’s choice. This whole sleepover was to be all about him; giving him a welcome break from the stresses of being a new big brother to two babies at once. He’d been on many, many sleepovers at Tia Estela and Auntie Taylor’s place before, but this time felt different. Reggie knew that at home, his parents were busy with their other children… and in his sensitive state, it took no time at all for him to miss them.

Twins, Reggie had come to realise, were very hard work. They cried a lot… and his mommy cried a lot, and his daddy cried a lot, and he cried a lot. All crying and no sleeping was not a whole lot of fun. Reggie wanted so badly to get away from the babies, but at the same time he longed to be with his parents. However much fun it was to take a break at his aunts’ place, the worry in him just wouldn’t go away.

Side-by-side, he and Liv changed into their pyjamas. Five-year-old Liv, true to form, nattered away to him the whole time. Babies, of course, were the subject of choice.

“My moms say we’re probably not gonna get another baby. Maybe ‘cos you have two I can borrow one if I get lonely. Do you have one that you like best?”

Reggie shrugged.

“Maybe next time your mom and dad will have three. You could have all these babies like a baby army, and if someone’s ever mean to you, you will have like a hundred poopy diapers you can throw at them. No one likes poop.”

“I don’t want lots more babies,” Reggie said softly. I want no more.

“If you don’t like babies, you can come and live with us forever!” Liv suggested brightly, oblivious the the wobble of her cousin’s bottom lip.

When Estela popped her head around the corner to check on the kids, Reggie was in tears and Liv looked totally bewildered.

“Mommy, Reggie’s crying…,” she pointed out, rather unnecessarily, for her mother had already scooped the little boy into a cuddle.

“It’s okay, mijo,” Estela soothed as she gently rocked her nephew in her arms. “It’s okay to cry. This has been really hard. You know what? You have been such a good boy for Mommy and Daddy.”

Liv, not quite sure what to do, but nothing if not well-meaning, draped herself over Reggie and patted him on the back. “There, there. It’s okay.”

Estela took Reggie into the lounge room for some cheer-up time, and Liv took Big Bear. Taylor quickly joined them, and pulled Reggie into her lap for a cuddle.

“Are you feeling a bit sad, sweetpea?”

Reggie nodded. “Uh-huh. I liked it better how things were before. Everything’s different.”

Taylor gently rubbed the little boy’s arms. “Change can be really tough. It’s like you’ve got to figure out how life works all over again!”

“Yeah, it’s not nice.”

“So, it’s okay to have a good cry. We will give you as many hugs and cuddles as you need.”

“Reggie,” Liv piped up, “do you wanna play a game? That could make you feel happy?”

Reggie sniffed and nodded again. Pleased-- she had this cheering-up business down-- Liv plonked herself in Estela’s lap and leaned forward to her cousin.

“Do you wanna play… ‘Klaawyi Chase’?”

Estela intervened quickly. “Maybe something with a little less running around. It’s nearly bedtime, Livi.”

“Okay. Ummmm…. ‘Duck, Duck, Goose’?”

“Livita.”

Well, you’re no fun. Liv gave a soft huff and pondered. By her best guess, ‘Hide and Seek’ would be a ‘no’ too… especially as last time she’d hid, no one managed to find her for a full hour.

“How about,” Taylor suggested, “we have a game of ‘Fortunately-Unfortunately’?”

“I wanna play that one!” Reggie said enthusiastically. “Can I start? Fortunately, we all had ice cream for dessert.”

Liv bounced in her mother’s lap. “Unfortunately, the ice cream was smelly-feet flavour!”

“Livi!” Taylor exclaimed, rolling her eyes. Why was everything smelly-feet with that kid? “Okay, then-- fortunately, Robin Dog likes smelly-feet, so he ate all the ice cream for us.”

“Oh!” Liv cried. “I’ve got a really good one!” Hehe, Robin with smelly-feet farts….

“Unfortunately,” said Estela. “It was Mama Estela’s turn, and Miss Livita just had to wait.”

Liv turned and poked her tongue out at her mom, making Reggie giggle. He snuggled in against his Auntie Taylor’s chest, his mind far away from worries about his new role as big brother to a pair of very needy twins.

“Fortunately,” he said, smiling, “Furball was visiting, and he made us some new ice cream with no yucky flavours in it.”

“Unfortunately….”

_________________________

San Trobida, September 2035

It was the last weekend before school started, and a lazy warm day at the Montoya house. Estela was up a tree, hammering boards into what would soon be a playhouse for the kids. She’d already finished up a two-storey-high climbing wall on the other side of the yard, which, at Liv’s request, would eventually be connected to the new tree-house by a zipline. Then, there’d be a slide, and monkey bars, and a tyre swing, and a fire pole. Basically, Estela had made it her mission to put together the best backyard playground on the Costa Libertad. Taylor, meanwhile, had been busying herself with a vegetable garden, with the help of a fascinated Erin and her parents, who turned out to be quite clever when it came to soil chemistry.

Liv had been up and down her new climbing wall like a yo-yo, leaving her dog, Robin, running rings around the base and all but tripping Reggie up as he tentatively took his first steps towards ascending.

“Are you coming?”

“I’m trying! Your dog’s getting in the way.”

Eventually, Reggie managed to clamber his way up, with a little help from Liv who hauled him over the top.

“See; piece of cake.”

Reggie couldn’t quite agree, and now that he was up twenty feet, he was already dreading his descent back to solid ground. Keen to distract himself from the dizzying height, he passed Liv the rope that he’d carried slung across his shoulders.

“What do you want me to do with it?” she demanded. “You’re meant to drop one end back down….”

“I’m not going near the edge!”

“Fine. Immy! You down there still?”

On the ground, and trying to wrestle a squeaky toy giraffe from Robin’s mouth, Immy craned her neck up.

“Yeah-- but you’re lucky I am, Reggie was so slow.”

“Careful. I was careful. You should bloody well try it sometime.”

Immy rolled her eyes dramatically, but nonetheless took the rope end that Liv had lowered to her, and ran it over to Estela so the distance could be measured.

“There we go,” Liv said, after having marked the rope at the edge of the platform. “Done. Reggie, if you’re just going to look down, you might as well be on the ground. Come on-- check out the view!”

Begrudgingly, Reggie sat up properly and looked around.

“Woah.” Maybe he could see the appeal of being up so high, even if he was immensely grateful for the safety rails around the platform. “You really can see everything up here.”

“Isn’t it cool?” Liv beamed as she pointed her cousin towards the paddock behind the yard. “You wanted to see our horse? Right in there at the side of the sheltery-shed thing….”

“Oh, wow! Okay, fine, I believe you now. I guess she was just hiding earlier.”

“That’s Miel. She’s like, older than dirt; Mama Estela used to ride her when she was a teenager.”

“And she’s still alive?”

“Just about. I think she’s uh… nearly thirty? Pretty ancient. Mom found out she was all on her own after her friend died, and she bought her so she could retire here with us. She’s kind of a bitey asshole. Uh, the horse-- not Mom.” Liv quickly amended, glancing to the in-progress tree-house. “So, we’re keeping her, and if she wants to make friends with the new horses we’re getting, she can, otherwise at least she can, like, neigh rude horse words at them from over the fence.”

Reggie snorted. Weirdo.

“I’m super excited. I know Mama ‘Stel was kind of nervous about us moving over here because of how things were when she was a kid-- but it actually… feels nice. I love our new house. I love cranky Miel. I love that we’re gonna get chickens, and maybe a new friend for Robin. Even the school seems pretty good.”

Swallowing his fear, Reggie joined Liv at the railing, dangling his legs over the side of the platform.

“Yeah, I think I like it here, too. Mom and Dad seem really happy; Dad says he can make more of a good difference in the world here than in America. So, I guess that’s got to be good. Did I tell you we’re going to put a pool in?”

“You might have mentioned it. When you’ve been whining about the heat, for the hundredth time.”

“It’s so humid!”

Liv giggled. It was like being back in the tropics of La Huerta, and to her, that felt right. Granted, it might have been nicer if they could just pop on over into a neighbouring alpine region that was inexplicably right next to the hot, sticky jungle, but she really loved it.

“Well,” Reggie said, “it’s going to be great. And it should be done by the time Quinn and Michelle come to visit.”

“Do we even know whose house they’re staying at yet?”

“It should be my place.” Reggie puffed out his chest, as if to emphasise the rightness of his point. “You’re definitely getting Jake and Sean and Mikey. You can’t take all the visitors. And besides… we’ll have a pool.”

That was hard to argue with. “It’s up to the adults anyway,” Liv conceded. In the end, it didn’t matter; she was going to make the most of having her La Huerta family around even if it meant camping out in Reggie’s back yard. “But, I will be a much better San Trobida tour guide than you. I’m still showing you around.”

Reggie hmphed, and Liv laughed.

“Come on, Reggie,” she said, dropping gracefully down the side of the wall and taking up hand-holds. “I’m getting hungry.”

It was at that point that Reggie made the sobering discovery that going down, was rather more intimidating than going up a sheer vertical surface.

“Um, Liv…,” he said quietly. “I, uh, don’t think I can do that.”

“Oh!” Liv responded. “Sorry, I forgot you’re new to this. Maybe you should’ve started smaller. But don’t worry, I’ll get you down….”

“Okay…,” he murmured, clearly not remotely convinced.

“Mom!” Liv hollered, all but making her poor cousin topple over the edge in surprise. “Reggie’s stuck!”

Reggie felt heat rise in his cheeks as his sisters, hanging out on the grass below the wall at the worst possible time, burst out laughing. Like they could even get up this high to begin with.

Up in the tree-house, Estela looked up and wiped off the paint from her hands. Rescuing kids from scrapes had pretty much become her specialty at this point; twelve years with Liv had seen to that. “I’m coming,” she called back.

“I’m not exactly stuck,” Reggie muttered defensively, as his Tia Estela easily scaled the climbing wall to join him and Liv, who’d already rejoined him to offer moral support. “If I really wanted to, I could climb down; I just feel I should practice climbing up a few more times before I try that.”

“You’ll get there,” Estela said kindly. As far as she was concerned, the fact that her nephew had a realistic view of his own capabilities was only a good thing. “I’ll have that zipline going in no time anyway, so you’ll have no hurry to work it out.”

With his aunt’s back offered to him, Reggie took the cue and wrapped his long arms around her neck, and his legs around her middle. Getting rescued by one of the team of protective grown-ups? Basically, the story of both his and Liv’s lives.

“Hang on, Regito,” Estela laughed.

____________________________

La Huerta, 2034

The frigid wind howled against the cabin door, and it took all of Liv and Reggie’s combined might to wrestle it closed. Both kids were panting heavily-- and shaking like leaves-- as they nervously stepped away.

“Thank god this little hut was here, really,” Liv heaved. “I dunno about you, but I’d rather be stranded in a snowstorm with walls around me.”

Reggie said nothing, and just shivered, wrapping his arms around his own torso. He’d wrapped up-- as if his parents would let him go wandering into the colder pockets of the island without a heap of layers-- but the snow had wet his gloves through, and a chill was now spreading through his body.

“Hey,” Liv said, “we should… we should get a fire going. You look like you’re halfway turned into a popsicle right now.”

As his cousin busied herself at the fireplace-- thank goodness there was some firewood left-- Reggie fiddled with his emergency phone. His heart sank. No signal. His mom and dad were going to be so worried when he and Liv never came home….

“Uh, Liv… I think the storm’s screwed up the reception here. It won’t let me phone Mom and Dad.”

Liv looked up, and for the first time, she looked truly fearful, her usual intrepid spirit extinguished in a flash. “They’re really gonna panic,” she said softly. She shuddered. If their parents came out looking for them, it meant walking out into a blizzard, and all the danger that came with it. If she could just tell her mothers that she was safe, that she and Reggie had shelter… they could wait out the storm. Anything could happen, anything….

“Are you okay, Livia?” Reggie asked, and he handed her a heavy blanket as he sat down cross-legged in front of her feebly burning fire. “You look kind of spaced-out.”

“Hng?”

“They’ll find us; it’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want them to come and find us,” Liv snapped. “I want them to stay where it’s safe. They could get hurt or, or worse because we were stupid enough not to turn around when the weather changed.” She placed a stick too roughly, and her firewood tower collapsed, extinguishing the flame. “For fuck’s sake!”

Reggie, wisely, stayed quiet, letting his cousin fix up the mess and get a new fire started without interference. He watched her with concern as her eyes welled. “Livia…?”

She huddled close to him, but for a long while, didn’t speak.

“Reggie,” she murmured at last, “something really horrible happened a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t want to talk about it with you, ‘cause… ‘cause I didn’t even want to think about it…. It just made me feel too bad. But, uh.... I was… I was playing in the sea with Mama Estela. Just like we always do. We were just goofing off. Then, um, I got all tangled up in those freaking weeds. They grabbed me and held me under.”

“That must have been so scary….”

“Of course, Mom got me out of there. B-but there was a sea-snake in there. It bit her. It happened so fast… I hardly even saw what happened, but she suddenly just... could hardly even get out of the water. I somehow managed to haul her up out the water, but she was all limp and… and I gave her the anti-venom, and she just started having some kind of fit.. Like her body was jerking around, and her mouth was all frothy.” She gasped through a sob. “Then she… she stopped breathing, completely.” Liv shuddered as the memory filled her mind, vivid as if it were yesterday. She could feel Reggie’s wide, horrified eyes upon her. “I screamed. I screamed for help. Mama Taylor was up the beach, she couldn’t hear me. S-so I did CPR. My hands were shaking so-- so bad. And all I could think was ‘I’m gonna screw this up. I’m gonna screw this up and my mom’s gonna die’.” Her voice cracked and she sputtered through hot tears that she wiped away with her arm. Before she knew it, Reggie had his arms around her and was holding her tight. “I don’t know how long it was,” she said. “It felt like forever, but it was probably only a few minutes. Then she started breathing and I just… I cried, and cried, and cried.”

Reggie gently rubbed Liv’s back, and it soothed her.

“I, uh, I guess I always thought Mama Estela was invincible. To me, she always was. There was nothing I couldn't do either, because she would always be there to protect me. It was so close, Reggie… it looked like she was gone.”

“I… didn’t know it was as bad as that. My dad told me she’d been bitten but…,” Reggie mumbled. “You must have been so scared. Have you… have you talked to your moms about it much?”

Liv sniffed, and wiped her face again. “Yeah. You know what my Mama Taylor is like; we’ve talked it through lots, I’ve told them how I’m feeling. But I haven’t… like… had a big cry since it happened.” Until now. Now, she just couldn’t seem to stop the tears from coming. Reggie didn’t seem to mind; he just sat with her, and rubbed her back, and told her it was okay.

After what seemed like an age, her tears slowed.

“It is going to be okay, you know?” Reggie said gently. “Obviously, they’re going to come out looking for us, but they’re smart. They’ll be prepared; just like your Mama Estela was with the anti-venom.”

“Yeah…,” Liv said, her voice small. You could be as prepared as you wanted, but sometimes the world managed to stay one step ahead. The storm outside was wild and furious, battering on the roof and walls… and it was frightening. Liv could only snuggle under her cousin’s arm, and trust that whatever search and rescue party was out there would come through.

The two kids huddled together beneath their blanket, speaking little, but making their mutual support known without words. Just the squeeze of a hand through the most blood-curdling howls of the wind, and the simple offer of presence.

Somehow, the creak of the door shoved open cut through the dull roar.

“Oh, thank goodness!”

“Dad!” Reggie leapt forward and flung his arms around his father, his face lighting up further when Grace followed in behind. “Mom!”

Grace put her shaking hands to her son’s face, gently sweeping hair from his eyes. “Darling, are you all right?” Then she pulled Liv into a fierce hug, and in a moment Aleister had his arms around all three of them. “We were so worried!”

Liv whimpered against Grace’s shoulder. “Are my moms out in the storm?” She knew the answer already.

“Yes, honey. They’re out searching for you. Don’t you stress, okay? We’ve got a flare to set off so they’ll know we found you here-- and Varyyn and Diego too.”

“Woah,” Liv murmured, “you got a whole search party out.”

There was a buzzing, and the flickering of blue light, then Iris materialised.

Reggie beamed. “Hey, Grandma! So, a ‘whole search party’ is pretty much correct.”

“I will say, being able to scan for nearby lifeforms is quite handy in situations like these.”

So, find my moms and Tio Diego. Liv hugged tighter to her Auntie Grace, with no words pleading for help.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Grace said gently, stroking Liv’s face, while Aleister saw to setting off the flare. “It’s going to be just fine. We’re not far from Elyys’tel; we all fanned out from there, so no one is going to be too deep into the mountains.”

That… actually made sense. It was enough, just enough to keep Liv a step above panic-mode. She headed back to the fireplace, but as her backside hit the floor, a guttural roar rocked the cabin, and she leapt back to her feet.

“What the--?”

“You two stay back!” Aleister ordered, his voice shaking. Why, oh why, did the children want to go gallivanting out in the frozen wilderness when there was a perfectly serviceable tropical paradise right outside their front door? He was going to be old before his time at this rate….

Grace, though, was already hauling open the door, to reveal the hulking figure of the Mountain Guardian.

A growl rumbling in her throat, Arktos loomed in the doorway, looking down at Grace with a questioning gaze.

“Hello…?” she said cautiously. The gigantic bear-like creature was generally reasonably friendly…. “Did we… did we disturb you with the flare?”

Arktos grumbled, her furry ears flicking with curiosity.

“Our friends are out there in the storm,” Grace continued, certain that the yeti would understand; her past experiences had only supported the fact that this creature was incredibly intelligent-- and benevolent. “The flare was to bring them to this cabin.”

With a soft huff, Arktos shuffled backwards, and all of a sudden, it seemed as though she was surrounded by a force-field… a bubble that the wind and blinding snow couldn’t penetrate.

Understanding, Grace turned to Iris. “I think we’re going hiking again-- with a little extra help this time. Al, you’ll stay and watch the kids?”

“I--I--” Aleister stuttered. “Well, of course. Stay close to the… the bear thing.” Scrambling a little, he pulled off his outer layer and offered it to her. “I won’t have you catching hypothermia.”

And Grace stepped into the snow, Iris hovering behind her, and found shelter in the yeti’s protective shield. She looked up at the beast, now rearing up onto colossal hind legs to scout for signs of nearby human activity. “Thank you, Arktos. I guess… I guess, you choose the direction, and we’ll start the search.”

The unusual trio headed out into the storm, and within moments, they were invisible for the wind thick with snow. Aleister, a look of dumbfoundment upon his face, closed the door, and again, the cabin was quiet.

“Damn. Auntie Grace is a fricking badass,” Liv breathed, face alight in awe.

Aleister, recovering from his wife’s shock exit quickly-- he’d seen her steely courage in action enough times to just about take it in his stride, nodded. “Indeed.” He brushed the last flakes of snow from his coat, and looked around the room. “Well, I don’t suppose the wait will pass any faster with us standing around here. Reggie, did we leave any board-games here last time?”

“Uh, looks like we’ve got ‘Scrabble’?”

Well, Liv thought, I don’t have a hope in hell against these people. Should’ve left ‘Twister’ here….

Reggie sat himself down in front of the crackling fire and started unpacking the box. “Hey, Livia-- team up with me?”

He was clearly still a little worried about her. If there was an opportunity to thrash her at something, Mr Pedantic-Always-Right would take it without fail. Or so Liv had believed.

She plonked down cross-legged beside him. “Yeah? Yeah, all right.”

The two kids exchanged a high five, and Liv couldn’t help but grin. You are going down, Uncle Al.

___________________________

San Trobida, September 2035

As the car pulled up the neatly paved pathway to Aleister and Grace’s house, Liv excitedly rolled down the window.

“Reginaaaaald!!!” she hollered.

“How,” Aleister wondered aloud, “can such a small person-- and the offspring of Estela and Diego of all people-- sound so eerily like a bloody foghorn?”

A beaming Reggie followed his father out the front door. He exchanged hugs with both his parents-- and his two little sisters-- and then rushed to join his cousin on the back seat.

“Are you ready to go, mijo?” Estela checked in, suppressing a laugh as Taylor all but did a contortion act to give her nephew a hug from the front seat.

He had Liv, didn’t he? So, basically, he was ready for anything.

The short drive to the school saw the return of those pesky jitters, and Reggie knew from the way his cousin jiggled her leg the whole way there that he was definitely not alone in that. The school ground, filled only with kids their own age when they’d been there for orientation, was swarming with adolescents of all sizes-- and just about all of them were bigger than Reggie and Liv.

With an awkward hug and a kiss to her mothers in the front of the car, Liv bit the bullet and, bulging backpack in hand, stepped out into a brave new world. There was only one thing for it; Reggie would just have to take the plunge. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, and followed after his cousin.

“Welp,” said Liv, “here goes nothing!”

Reggie gave a nervous laugh and playfully bashed Liv with his backpack, putting a reassuringly silly grin on her face.

We’ve got this.

_______________________

NOTES

Little Xiraana is @mauvecatfic's baby. Check out her stories; you won't regret it!

If you read 'A Ride to Remember', you might remember Miel. She's the very same horse.

Aaaaand, the incident Liv is recounting during the snowstorm is the one you can read from Estela's perspective in 'Teething Problems: Part Two'.

#endless summer #playchoices #liv montoya #reggie hall #graleister #estela x mc #estela montoya #grace hall #aleister rourke #diego soto

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thepancakeboi · 4 years

Text

99. “Do it. I dare you.”

I don’t normally make a note on these writing prompt stuff outside of tags but I feel I have to warn that this one does get very dark and angsty, up to including the potential of character death (no one dies though, I promise). Now, on with the show!

“Let’s go,” Joker’s voice rings out, echoing against the walls of the Mementos station.

Mona jumps onto the tracks, transforming into his car form in midair. The rest of the thieves sans Joker starts to get in. Not everyone had been able to come today. Haru had business involving Big Bang Burger that she had to attend to, leaving it down to the nine of us to finish our Mementos requests. She had apologized profusely in the group chat, but the others reassured her that everything was alright.

I go to get in the back of the vehicle but am stopped by a hand grabbing my arm. I give Joker an unamused look as I ask, “What do you want?”

“You know where you sit,” he replies with a cocky grin to match. I sigh in frustration as I get in the front row after Joker. Every single time, he always wants me to sit right next to him. He refuses to take no for an answer on that. No matter how much outward annoyance I show, I secretly am content with this seating arrangement. I’m fairly certain that he is aware of this as well. It’s even more apparent today since, with Noir not here today, Violet ends up deciding to sit with Panther and Queen in the middle row. Joker echoes my thoughts as he remarks, “Hey, look at that. It’s just the two of us. Anything can happen~”

“Joker, if you try anything, you’re going to lose a limb or two.”

“Sounds fun,” he hums, laughing as I sulk and look away from him. I can’t even threaten him without his goddamn danger kink making its existence known.

“God, get a room, you two!” Oracle yells from the back.

Joker laughs even harder at this. “I might do just that.”

“No,” I say, refusing to entertain this idea any further.

“But Akeppi-”

“I said no.”

He looks disheartened for a brief moment before he smirks. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Joker starting to sing, “♪ I want your love, and I want your revenge. You and me could write a bad romance~♪”

I whirl around as I hear Panther join in with, “♪ Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!♪”

Joker apparently has no intentions of stopping. “♪ I want your love, and all your lover’s revenge. You and me could write a bad romance~♪”

At that point, Oracle decides it’s her turn, “♪ Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh! Caught in a bad romance!♪”

“Would you three shut up already?” I yell, turning so I can glare at all of them at once.

It’s quiet for all of one second before Oracle and Joker both, of course, decide to ignore me like the menaces they are, simultaneously singing, “♪ Ra-ra-ah-ah-ah! Roma-roma-ma! Gaga, ‘Ooh la-la’! Want your bad romance~♪”

I groan at their antics. It’s the one annoyance that comes from sitting next to Joker. It’s not the first time something like this has happened. The chances of it being the last are minuscule at best.

The banter between the rest of the thieves continues as we continue to drive through Mementos. At some point, Joker took one of his hands off the steering wheel so that he could hold me close. He still has his arm around me when we run right into a Shadow that decides not to immediately disintegrate upon impact.

“Get ready, everyone!” Mona says in car form. “This one wants a fight.”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Skull shouts. “We’re gonna kick its ass!”

We quickly exit the vehicle while the Shadow is still stunned from being hit head-on by a cat-turned-vehicle. Almost as soon as Mona transforms back into a cat, the Shadow bursts into a black liquid, revealing itself as a Forneus.

I had been hoping for this fight to be done quickly, but this Shadow is decidedly stubborn. We’ve managed to knock it down a couple of times, but it simply refuses to die. After the third such time, it fires a Mapsiodyne that manages to hit all of us. “Queen!” Fox calls out as she collapses.

No communication is needed. Joker and I pull back to tend to her while the rest keep fighting. I bend down so that I can drag her out of harm’s way. However, I pause, sensing Joker’s eyes on me. Not this again. “Joker,” I start, moving Queen as I speak, “maybe you should be a little more concerned about Queen lying unconscious on the floor rather than staring at my ass.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.”

He quickly summons Sandalphon to revive her. Queen’s eyes flutter open, surprisingly unalarmed that she had been knocked out. It’s such a common occurrence with this group. How they’ve survived for so long, I have no idea. “She’s awake,” I say, turning back to Joker. “We should get back to the fight.”

He nods. “Let’s go-”

“Joker, look out!” Panther calls out just as he is engulfed in a magenta aura.

He tries to move out of the way, but it’s too late. There’s nothing any of us can do without Noir and her Persona’s Amrita Shower. The aura clears. Joker stands there, his eyes closed. “Joker?” Queen asks from behind me, having gotten herself to her feet.

A sinister grin creeps across his face as he opens his eyes, his attention focused on the two of us. His eyes glow with an unnatural purple light as he rushes at us. “It’s not him!” I yell, blocking his dagger with my sword. His grin only widens, a frenzied look in his eyes. “He’s been brainwashed by that damn Shadow!”

“We gotta do something!” Mona calls out from the frontlines, where he’s working with Skull and Fox to keep the Shadow occupied. “He’ll keep attacking us if we do nothing!”

In an instant, I make my decision. “Keep attacking it, all of you. Oracle, make sure they don’t die doing it.”

“It’ll be easy peasy!” Oracle replies from above in Al Azif.

“I’ll keep Joker occupied while you do that until he snaps out of this brainwashing.”

“Got it,” Panther responds, her Persona pelting the Shadow with fiery strikes as Makoto charges forward on Agnes.

With Joker’s next strike, I grab ahold of his wrist, fully intending on pulling him away from the fight. However, I’m distracted by Violet tentatively asking, “Is senpai gonna be okay?”

“Damnit,” I hiss as Joker escapes my grasp, his dagger slicing my wrist. “Quit your worrying. He’ll be fine.”

Ignoring Violet, for the time being, I regain a hold of Joker and manage to get the bloody dagger out of his hand. I drag him away, leaving the others to take care of that pesky Shadow. The moment we’re out of its vision, I turn to Joker, sheathing my sword for now. “Pull yourself together, idiot!” I snap, resisting the urge to slap him across the face. “We’re your friends.”

“Friends?” he asks, the first words he’s said in his current state.

“Yes, friends. You have those, remember?”

“No. You’re my enemy!”

He throws himself at me with little regard to the fact that he’s currently unarmed and I have a sword at my side. I struggle against him, trying not to hurt him. My sword stays sheathed. I can’t bring myself to cause him harm, even when he has me backed against the wall. “Joker, listen to yourself! I know you’re still there. You’re brainwashed. The Phantom Thieves are your friends. Don’t you understand? They’re not the enemy.”

“You’re right...it’s just you.” Nothing could have prepared me for what comes next. In one swift motion, he pulls out his pistol, pointing it at my face. His grin becomes wicked and full of malice as he sees my eyes widen in shock. “How does it feel, traitor? Knowing you’re about to die.”

“You won’t shoot me. You can’t.”

Despite how confident I try to sound, my heart pounds in my chest. Chills run down my spine. It takes a considerable amount of effort to hide any possible sign of trembling. I refuse to show any vulnerability to him. I don’t care that he could kill me. Even brainwashed, there’s no way he’s capable of shooting me. This isn’t him. Joker would never do this...would he? “Are you afraid?” he mocks. “Are you going to beg for me to spare your life?”

I look Joker dead in the eye...and laugh.

I am aware of the situation I am in, that Joker has a gun pointed at my head and could shoot me dead at any moment. At the same time, the irony doesn’t elude me. The tables have turned, and now it’s me on the receiving end of the gun. “Do you really think I would stoop so low? I know you’re brainwashed, but I think you’re bluffing.”

“Someone’s eager to die. What was it you said? ‘Case closed. This is where your justice ends.’ But it’s not my justice ending, detective: it’s yours.”

“Then, by all means, pull the trigger. Do it. I dare you.” When he doesn’t immediately react, I add, “Here. How about I make it easier for you?” With slow, deliberate movements, I remove my mask with one hand and push my bangs aside with the other as I tilt my head forward. He has a clear shot now, the cold metal of the barrel pressed against my forehead. Yes, this is reckless. I know that...but he deserves this chance. An opportunity to enact swift judgment on me for my crimes. I’m not worthy of a quick death like this, even with it mirroring my actions in the interrogation room. It doesn’t matter, though. If this is how it ends, then so be it. I couldn’t ask for a better executioner.

I stand there, eyes closed, waiting for death to take me. But the gunshot never comes. I open my eyes, staring past the pistol to the boy currently holding me at gunpoint. His grin isn’t quite as wide as before. He’s faltering. “What’s the matter, Joker? I didn’t hesitate when the situation was reversed. Go ahead,” I say as I close my eyes once again, my voice slowly rising in volume as I continue to berate him, “put a bullet through my skull. It’s only fair, isn’t it? I’ve murdered countless people. I even tried to kill you twice. I don’t deserve to be alive, so get on with it and fucking shoot me already!”

All I hear is a gasp, the gun clattering against the ground. I look up to see Joker, no longer brainwashed. It’s clear that he’s shaken. His lips are parted as he stares at me in wide-eyed horror. “A-Akeppi?” he hesitantly says, voice trembling. His mask isn’t able to completely hide the tears threatening to spill. He’s trying so desperately to pull himself together, but for once, it’s not working. I’ve never seen him so visibly distressed, and it hurts.

“You were brainwashed.” It’s the only thing I can offer as reassurance that I don’t blame him, that it wasn’t his fault.

“You’re...not hurt, are you?”

Figures, he’d ask that question. As always, he’s more concerned about my own well being than his own. “No, of course not,” I lie, hiding the blood on my wrist.

He isn’t fooled. He sees right through my response, as observant as ever. His touch is gentle as he moves my arm into his line of sight. The corners of his lips twitch when he sees the cut. “You are. I didn’t hurt you anywhere else, did I? Tell me the truth.”

“You didn’t.”

We stand there in silence, neither one of us sure how to proceed. I personally want to ignore it and move on, but I can sense that Joker won’t. His inner guilt is eating at him, I can tell. Meanwhile, something tells me he knows I’m hiding something from him. I just don’t want him to know that I had believed he was capable of killing me, even for a second. It’d be too much for him, I’m sure. Joker’s the one to break the silence. “Akeppi, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I instantly respond.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not. I could have killed you.”

“You didn’t kill me, tho-”

“But I could have,” he interjects before starting to ramble. “I could have killed you. I had my hand on the trigger, and you were willing to just die. What if I had actually shot you...and you had died? Akeppi, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I’m still here. You wouldn’t have fired the gun.”

“But what if-”

He abruptly goes silent, likely shocked that I’ve pulled him into my embrace, dropping my mask in the process. “Ren, trust me,” I say in a slow, hushed tone, dropping the codenames for now so I can get through to him. “It’s okay. I’m here for you, and I will continue to love you as much as before. Nothing will change that.”

“Goro...” His voice hitches as he returns the hug, desperately holding onto me as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he doesn’t. I can hear his ragged breathing as he finally breaks down and cries. Taking cues from what he would do if the situation were reversed, I pull off one of my gauntlets and gently stroke his hair with my ungloved hand. My own tears run down my face, but I refuse to acknowledge them. I have to be strong, for Ren’s sake. He’s always been that way for me, and it’s about time I return the favor.

A few minutes pass before he starts to calm down. As he pulls back to look at me, I move his mask up so I can wipe the remaining tears from his face. “Even crying, you’re still beautiful,” I muse to myself, not meaning to say the words aloud.

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?” he asks with a little chuckle. “You look like you were crying, too.”

I shake my head, refusing to confirm or deny his statement. His chuckling continues as he replicates my actions, although his hand lingers on my cheek longer than I had. I turn my head as I hear Skull’s voice. They must have brought down the Shadow without us. I reach down, grabbing my mask from behind Joker and putting my glove back on my hand. “We’ll keep this between us, alright?”

“Okay.” He moves his own mask back into its proper position. Even up close, it’s hard to see that he had just finished crying. “Hey, Akeppi?”

“Yes?”

“Can we cuddle when we get back home?”

The request is not exactly unexpected. We both know he loves to cuddle and that it helps improve his mood. He already should know my answer. After all, how could I refuse him after what happened? “Of course. Come on. Let’s meet up with the others.”

Prompt list

#akeppi writes #p5 #persona 5 #goro akechi #akechi #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #phantom thieves #except haru sorry i couldn't give her screentime #akeshu #shuake #writing prompt #this is the darkest writing i've done yet #this has been an idea months in the making #this one HURT to write #it hurt my soul #writing joker so vulnerable hurts #if it isn't clear i am hurt lol

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thethousandyearwitch · 3 years

Text

The Show Must Go On! Chap. 7

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 7 “Montero” out now!

AO3 Link

What could be worse than taking care of a teenage boy who is developing a steady video game addiction?

There was a loud bang coming from the room above the kitchen, followed by laughter and cackling. The boys were in Gons room and tried their hardest to set up the sleeping cod. They refused help, naturally, convinced that they are just as capable, confidence heightened by being in each other’s presence, hyping each other up, and the consumption of their own body weight in burgers.

Another bang. A shriek. More laughter. Mito sighed so deeply that she feared a piece of her soul might have left her.

Taking care of TWO teenage boys who are developing a steady video game addiction.

Her phone vibrated with a new message. Gon had sent her a selfie of himself and Killua on the cot, which seemed to be standing securely. The boys were flexing their arm muscles (or lack thereof) with proud looks on their faces, and the only caption was “#success”. Well, at least they are having fun.

Bellissimo<3: Good morning. I am going to pick you up at 1pm, be dressed by then, and pack your bag for tonight’s show. We are going for a brief detour.

Hisoka stretched out on his bed and squinted at the too-bright phone screen. It was 10 in the morning, though the rooms curtains were drawn shut tightly as a defence against harsh sunlight. A lazy smile spread on his lips.

Hisoka: Are we finally running away together to get married in Las Vegas? I thought you’d never ask~~❤️

Bellisssimo<3: I am trying to reward you for not getting arrested last night.

Bellissimo<3: Do not make me regret this.

Hisoka: I should avoid getting arrested more often ❤️

Bellissimo<3: 1pm Hisoka. See you then.

Hisoka let his phone drop back into pillow-mountain. This was certainly an interesting surprise, and an opportunity that the make up artist wasn’t going to waste. Getting One-on-One time with the Zoldyck was something precious and rare to him. Because Illumi was a rarity himself. In a world of increasingly bland and repetitive personalities, especially in his field of work, Illumi presented a challenge of raw potential. Cold and calculated to the masses, an obedient dog to his family, a revolutionary in his work. Hisoka knew that he must be hiding so much more, and the more walls he encountered with the man, the more he wanted to tear them down with his bare hands. Hisoka hated calling whatever this was a ‘Crush’. Sure, he was affectionate towards the other man, and at this point he couldn’t deny the pleasant twist of his heart whenever they touched. But he didn’t yearn for lazy Sundays in bed together, didn’t want the peaceful domesticity that seemed to be inherited in being a ‘couple’.

What do I want?

Hisoka pulled himself out of bed, and made his way to the shower, determined to abandon this pesky train of thought. There was no point in pondering the unlikely. Though… Illumi had been indulging him. And he was going to indulge him again this day. Maybe he wasn’t the only one getting soft, even if neither would ever admit it. The thought brought another satisfied smirk to his lips as he massaged his favourite shampoo into his scalp.

He wondered how Illumis family would react, hypothetically, if they were to end up a couple. The eldest son of the Zoldycks, not just gay, but in a relationship with a makeup artist who is famous for starting drama whenever possible. They certainly would be a more feared and adored couple than if Illumi were to marry some busty heiress who hooks up with her tennis coach when he’s away.

Silva Zoldyck would drop dead right on the spot if Hisoka would ask him if he should call him dad, he was sure.

He stepped out of the steamy shower and mustered his refreshed face in the mirror. Maybe that’s all he wanted. To form something with Illumi that would be even more powerful than the Zoldyck empire, to make everyone else envy/fear/adore them. They had the capacity and the ability to do so, no doubt.

Or maybe he just wanted to have something he wasn’t supposed to have.

Hisoka shrugged to himself, before he went over his usual beauty routine. Today could prove very interesting.

12:45 pm, Hisoka leaned on his kitchen island, absentmindedly scrolled through social media to beat time. Illumi wasn’t going to be late, but he’s never been early either.

He decided to go with a casual look, fitted beige khakis, with an oxford blue button up, sleeves rolled up just above his elbows, debated with himself on how far unbuttoned would be appropriate-yet-slutty (Top 3 Buttons unbuttoned, was the conclusion). Under his eyes, rested on his cheekbones, he had painted his signature star and teardrop, eyebrows plucked to perfection, and after 10 tries he managed to get a satisfying cat eye done. It was perfectly normal to want to look like hell on wheels while meeting with your friend-partner-associate-crush-insertsatisfactoryterm.

The afternoons were always the worst time to check social media, the calm before the posting-storm that comes during the evening and night. Hisoka had already reached posts that were done last night, a few screenshots taken here and there for future reference and roasting purposes.

Almost fed up with endless scrolling, suddenly it appeared. Hisoka had followed a twitch streamer on twitter recently, some kid who was definitely going to screw up in some point of his career (they always do, when the fame gets to their heads), and didn’t want to miss that mess. “Foxbeargaming”, what the fuck is even a foxbear, he had thought.

He had seen the brat before, in his profile picture and clips of his streams. But that wasn’t the problem with the newly posted selfie.

The problem was that he also recognized the second brat in it. Remembered the way Illumi boasted about his talented little brother, the same wild hair and blue eyes as he showed him a picture of the kid. Killua Zoldyck is currently in the middle of nowhere Australia, and his family most likely doesn’t know about it.

Oh, this will be delicious.

Hisokas day had been upgraded from surprisingly interesting to extremely entertaining if everything were to go smoothly. Immediately revealing to Illumi before their date that his little brother is out in the desert trying to tame himself a boyfriend wouldn’t do either of them good. Let it simmer, let it fester, keep Illumi away from his phone the rest of the day.

Lost in his scheming, he just barely noticed that the clock hit 1pm. He grabbed his bag from the floor and stuffed his phone into his back pocket before he headed out the door.

Hisoka wasn’t sure what he expected, yet he was taken aback by the sight in front of him as he exited the apartment complex.

Illumi leaned leisurely against a black sports car, as if that were his only purpose in life. His sleek hair was tied into a neat ponytail, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Hisoka let his eyes take in every detail of him. Peridot green jeans, fashionably washed out, paired with a simple grey polo shirt, the collar popped open just enough to reveal more neck than usual.

“Are you waiting on an invitation?” Illumi didn’t sound as agitated as he probably intended, giving Hisoka only more reason to push his luck.

“I was thinking about whether I want to pounce on you now or later.” He approached the other man, who in turn straightened up his posture in defence. But instead of any hostile movements, Hisoka simply took Illumis hand, and bought it to his lips for a caste kiss. “But I’d rather not spoil our date this early.”

Illumi pulled his hand away, though maybe with a second’s hesitation. “Not happening, also not a date. Get in the car before I change my mind.”

The car was equipped with fabric seats, which Hisoka was grateful for in the Italian heat. “Maybe I should film one of those Vlogs today, what do you think of the title ‘Partner takes me away for secret date’?”

“What about ‘Multimillionaire kicked me out of a speeding car’?”

“Touché.” Now Hisoka was sure that his companion had to be in a good mood, despite what he’d claim, he’d never go along with his jokes if he were feeling neutral-to-pissed otherwise. He rolled his shoulders back into the seat comfortably, golden eyes fixated on the way that Illumis elegant pale hands wrapped around the steering wheel. “I didn’t know you can drive, considering you always have someone to do it for you.”

“I prefer it over flying, and I still consider myself a better driver than half of our staff.”

“I’m sure you’re great at handling stick shift as well.”

“Of co-“Illumi pressed his lips together in sudden annoyance, he most definitely had caught onto Hisokas smirk as he waited for an answer. “That is repulsive.” That prompted the makeup artist to break out into self-satisfied snickering.

“No clue what you’re talking about, Tesoro.” This earned him an eye roll, and silence as the car made its way through mostly empty streets. Hisokas eyes fell onto Illumis phone that rested on the console of the car. “Ah, I’m sure mister multimillionaire has Spotify Premium, right? Let me turn on some music.”

“Use your own phone.”

“I ran out of data volume. Are you that afraid I’ll discover your disastrous music taste?” His teasing smirk was met with another, more defeated eyeroll and a sigh.

“Don’t play anything trashy. The passcode is 0707.” After a questioning silence, he added “It’s Killuas birthday.”

Hisoka replied with an appreciative purr, before he started scrolling through the others music library. No personal playlists, not even a profile picture attached to his account. He was almost offended at the man’s lack of care for something as deeply personal as ones Spotify account, something that surely could tell a lot about a person. “Tchaikovsky? I’m not sure if I am impressed or utterly bored. Oh-“ His eyes stopped on a familiar album cover. “Maybe you’re not a lost cause after all, dear.”

A button press later, and the familiar opening sounds to Tame Impalas “Currents” played. The faintest trace of a smile curled on Illumis lips, barely noticeable, but Hisoka wanted to burn it into his mind anyway. Never mind that he took the brief distraction to turn the others phone onto silent mode. No unnecessary distractions.

It took the rest of the album until Illumi pulled the car into the exit towards the nature reserve near Lago di Bracciano, the last notes of “New Person, Same old Mistakes” dying together with the engine as they parked.

Hisoka stretched at the warm sunlight that caressed his skin when he exited the vehicle. Birds sang happily in the trees that lined the path around the large lake, and the only other person in sight was an elderly woman walking a small white dog. As the second car door shut close, he turned around with a pleased smile that showed off his shining teeth. “I never took you for the kind to take afternoon strolls.”

His friend-or-whatever set a relaxed pace onto the path and looked out onto the deep blue water. “I can’t sit around the hotel room the entire day, can I? And Rome is crawling with sweaty tourists and noisy journalists.”

“So you wanted to get some quality time outside?” Hisoka absentmindedly ran his tongue over his own sharp incisors.

“Correct.” Illumi didn’t seem to notice, or at least ignored, the predatory gesture.

“With me.”

He missed a beat before a simple, “It seemed appropriate.”.

This earned him an appreciative purr, before the men walked in silence along the large lake. Italy still wouldn’t reach its heights of temperatures this time of year, but any breeze was still a welcomed change from the rising humidity and sting of the sun. Hisoka wondered how much the others pale skin would change if he’d expose himself for a bit longer to the sun, if he’d immediately burn up in red, or if he’d start to tan, even just the faintest bit. He’d definitely look more alive, less like a puppet on invisible strings.

They continued to walk in a comfortable silence next to each other, took in the different sounds and sights of nature and the others presence, until eventually they reached the border of one of the shore towns. Beautiful stone buildings climbed the side of a smaller hill, only interrupted by greenery sprouting up between them. The main path was lined with flower shops, cafes, and Gelateria, whose smells mixed into a pleasant sweetness in the air. But one store in particular stood out. It wasn’t super flashy, it could have been found in any city and any street, but Hisoka knew this one from memory.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the others hand, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Excuse me-“ Before he could free his hand, Hisoka intertwined their fingers and pulled him closer.

“Let me treat you to something as well, I promise you won’t regret it,amore.” As his flaming eyes were met with a wrinkled nose, the sunshades Illumi were as not-telling as his eyes, he added “If you do regret it, I’ll gladly let you drown me right here.”

There was hesitation as the other mans wrist twitched against his hold. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

The absence of a struggle was still taken as accepting whatever had gotten him so excited, and thus Illumi was quickly pulled and seated outside the small café. Hisokas attitude had changed from a lazy yet scheming happiness, to pure, unfiltered excitement. It became almost impossible for him to sit still, he rapidly tapped his fingernails against the small glass table, until a waitress (in her mid-40s, he assumed) stepped out. She handed the men a small, leather bound menu, though both were immediately snatched by Hisoka and held back towards her.

“Non sarà necessario. Ordineremo la Cheesecake alla fragola. Grazie.”

“Certamente.” The woman replied with a smile, before she retreated into the shop.

“Cheesecake?” Illumi asked with a raised eyebrow, he had taken off his sunglasses by now and placed them on the table.

Hisoka tutted, “Not any Cheesecake, dear, it is the best Cheesecake you will ever have. I will have it at my wedding, funeral, and every occasion in between that.”

“I take it you’ve been here before.”

“When I had just moved to Rieti, I’d come here almost every weekend, though I unfortunately stopped when weekends became workdays as well.” He considered carefully how much more he was willing to share about that time of his life with the other, though the decision was taken off him as the waitress approached with two plates, each adorned with a generous slice of cheesecake, topped with strawberry slices and strawberry jam dripping off it.

His jaw clenched in anticipation as he watched Illumi take the first bite of the cake, reminiscent of all the rituals he’d do for him whenever he visited. It felt degrading to admit that he wanted to impress and gain the approval of the Zoldyck, but not degrading enough to stop the attention seeking behaviour.

A bite. Some careful chewing. Averted eyes because Hisoka was staringbut he did not care. He swallowed.

Illumi didn’t look at him as he spoke, seemingly engrossed in studying the décor of the shop. But his eyes betrayed him, Hisoka swore he saw something within the dark orbs glisten and flash to life. He didn’t know people could smile only with their eyes, but Illumi continued to be different in the most intoxicating way. “It’s… really good.”

Hisoka tried hard not to pick up his train of thought from the morning, tried not to think about what he wanted from Illumi or a relationship, and he especially tried not to think about the growing urge to leap across the table at that very moment to kiss him until their lips were sore. Instead, he started to eat his own cake, and failed to supress his sharpened smile.

They ate mostly in silence, safe for Hisokas muffled crazed snickering, and ordered espresso to chase down the thick cake.

“Hey, let’s play a game. What is wrong with that woman over there?” Hisoka pointed at a blonde who rested against a railing near the lake.

Illumi seemed to consider for a second whether he even wanted to play a weird game like that, before he stopped mid espresso-sip. “Ah. Those red heels are obviously spray-painted on.”

“Bingo~! It’s super obvious, right? You can still see the black shine through.”

“I’m more concerned about the uneven stitching on her shirt. Either she did that herself, or she has gotten scammed.”

Somehow that conversation triggered them to analyse the fashion choices of every stranger they encountered on their way back to the car with increasingly devilish tones. Illumi Zoldyck was a surprisingly good gossiper, and Hisoka filed that fact into the growing corner of his brain that he reserved just for him.

In the car, Illumi informed him they would just head to his hotel room to get dressed for the show, and then head there together. Any attempt at a joke about spending hotel-room-time wisely was, expectedly, cut off.

Illumi had never focused on the road this much in his entire life. He tried to be grateful that they had managed to get ready for the show in his hotel room without any major incidents, but now Hisoka was seated next to him again, wearing the suit he made for him. He looked good, annoyingly so. Naturally, Illumi wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction of telling him that though. He had indulged the man plenty enough for that day already and was holding back from chastising himself for it.

Last night had made him soft, Illumi decided. A brief waver of confidence and self-preservation that made him want to spend one-on-one time with Hisoka, in what may have resembled friendship to an outsider.

But his head was clearer now, cleansed from whatever foolishness had overcome him – the image of his mother recovering from a coughing fit and regaining her composure crept itself into his mind. Unrelated, he thought, though cleared his throat regardless.

“Machi says the crowd tonight is dreadful. Do you think she is just saying that to keep me from going~?” Hisoka tapped his long nails against the screen of his phone. Machi was a model they both have worked with in the past, though she was no where close to a breakthrough. A pretty face, objectively spoken, though smaller than most models, and the personality of royalty about to be executed. Do they always text each other?

“She’s there as well today?” He tried not to sound bitter. He didn’t have a reason to be bitter.

“Mhm, she’s modelling for a friend of hers it seems, though all the examples she sent me looked like someone with a priest-kink designed them, so it doesn’t hurt as much that she didn’t hire me as her artist.”

A moment of silence. “I see.” Illumi was not going to indulge Hisoka even more by inquiring about the nature of his relationship to the woman. It did not concern him; it wasn’t relevant to him or his work.

“Illumi?” Hisoka leaned over in his seat, golden eyes piercing into the side of his face.

“Yes, Hisoka?” Just now he noticed that he had been clenching his jaw uncomfortably.

“Are you jealous of Machi?” He didn’t need to look to know that Hisoka was smiling from one ear to the other, voice dripping with joy. He wasn’t going to look at Hisoka.

“You are insane. Why would I be jealous of her? I pity the girl, still having to work as a favour for acquaintances.”

Predatory eyes continued to drill into him, and a dangerous purr escaped the man, “Is that so?”.

“Yes, don’t be ridiculous.” They pulled into the valet line.

“Then you surely won’t mind that she’ll meet us in the entrance hall, wonderful!”

Illumi shouldn’t mind. It should be perfectly fine that instead of spending the evening alone with Hisoka, a good-looking young woman with an unclear relationship to him would meet them. He definitely couldn’t be jealous; it would be irrational and yet-

He threw the keys to the car at the valet and grabbed the number-marker without a word. His face wouldn’t give it away to others, that he was practically fuming, but Hisoka seemed to take pleasure in the subtle way that Illumis facial features tightened. “I heard jealousy can give you wrinkles~” Hisoka whispered cheekily as they approached the venue entrance, rows of reporters and interviewers lined at the sides, even more so than at the opening day before.

“You must have a lot of experience with that.” He hissed in reply and straightened his posture as they passed the crowd, mostly reporters who desperately tried to take pictures of attendees. Pictures, Interviews, all loathsome cries for attention that Illumi has always tried to avoid as much as possible without damaging the families reputation. He looked down the carpeted entrance and spotted the young woman known as Machi Komacine, clothed in a painfully tight black dress adorned with rosaries draped around her waist like belts, her messy pink hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her posture signalled boredom, but her eyes screamed murder.

Illumi was not a man who easily feared anyone, especially not a woman who stands at 5’2 proud; But he also was not necessarily thrilled to approach her. As he tried to hiss something in Hisokas direction again, something about not having much time to chat with their acquaintance due to meeting a client, he noticed: The other man had stayed behind, and was now busy posing for numerous cameras. Their eyes met, and with a mischievous grin, Hisoka held his hand out to beckon Illumi closer. For Pictures. Together.

Take pictures with Hisoka together in a public appearance that will most definitely set the gears of the rumour mill in motion; Or approach Machi alone and run the risk of uncomfortable conversation about our respective relationships to Hisoka?

He looked back at Machi, whose eyes met his instantly with a raised eyebrow. Fucking Hell-

Illumi made his way back to Hisoka, casually disregarded the hand that was held out to him and positioned himself as practiced – left arm leisurely to the side, right arm three quarters across his front. Not too strict, but not too relaxed either. In contrast, Hisoka had his left hand in the pocket of his suit, his right hand rested on Illumis shoulder as if were the most natural thing in the world. Journalists started to yell even more for their attention now, asking pesky questions that he tried to ignore, telling them to stand closer to each other, the likes. He kept the façade of his neutral face through the blinding flashes intact, even as Hisoka snaked his arms from his shoulder around his waist. “Do you wish for a public execution?”

“It looks better for the pictures~”

Illumi brushed a few strands of hairs behind his shoulder and used the motion to glance back to where Machi was waiting, her steady gaze on the two of them. “It’s rude to let her wait.”

“How considerate you are!” Hisoka snickered. “I know you aren’t jealous, caro, but I’d still like to reassure you of something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Machi and I look for, how should I say, very different things in a partner.” He tugged at Illumi waist and pulled him closer. “She’s looking for women and I am not.”

“Oh.” Illumi continued to look at the reporters cooing for their attention, as he tried not to think of the warm hand on his waist that felt searing hot and- Wait.

“OH.” He turned in Hisokas hold to properly look at him, who in turned grinned like the cat that ate the canary, then he looked back to Machi, and suddenly he felt stupid, which he didn’t experience a lot.

“Feeling relieved, even though you definitely weren’t jealous?”

“I think they got enough pictures.”

Illumi heard Hisokas snickering trail behind him as he made his way down the entrance. Machis eyes met his again, hands steady on her hips. Up closer now, he could observe the details of her dress, white seams stitched into crucifixes that crept up the sides, and the number “3” painted on every bead of the rosaries. It was cleanly executed, but Illumi was confident in the superiority of his own work.

“Miss Komacine.” He extended his hand to her, which she shook half-heartedly.

“Illumi. I’d like to get to business talk right away, so I don’t have to look at this clown longer than necessary.”

“Business talk?”

The young woman lit a cigarette for herself and shot a glare to Hisoka. “I assume you didn’t tell him I wanted to speak with him?” This granted her only a shrug and a smile from the man. “Fine, whatever. Illumi, I want to model for your next line, it would proof beneficial for both of us.”

“I don’t deal in women’s fashion. Furthermore, I do not see how I’d gain benefits from having you work for me.” Finally, a topic he felt comfortable to speak about, even it was only to criticize the woman for her awful attempt at business.

“I don’t mind wearing a suit, you should be at least competent enough to make smaller sizes, right?” She stepped closer to push a sharp index finger against his chest. “And about those benefits; Having me model for you would give me more exposure from a mainstream crowd, and thus exposure for my group. You would gain exposure to a wider audience of underground fashion-following, that isn’t influenced by your family’s name, meaning you could manifest a name for yourself. Unless you prefer being ‘a Zoldyck’ forever.”

The nerve. The audacity. Illumi considered just calling her a presumptuous cunt and leaving with his pride intact, but Machi looked like the kind of woman who knew how to slice car tires and break-wires.

A manicured hand curled around his shoulder, and Hisoka pushed himself between Machi and him. “What could be better than this; My two favourite people in this world, getting along, talking friendly business. Unfortunately, dear Machi, there’s some people inside that are dying to meet us tonight, so we’ll catch you later~”

Before he could object, Illumi was pushed through the entrance of the venue. The large runway was occupied by a high-end brand that premiered their women’s gala collection, mood-lighting engulfed the rest of the room, rhythmic beats of low music drowned out most of the talking crowd.

“Be a darling and just let her offer simmer a little. Machi can be very scary when she’s mad, and not in the way I enjoy.” Hisoka purred closer to his ear.

“Did you know she was going to ask?”

“What if I did?”

A waiter offered them drinks on a tray, and Illumi leisurely grabbed a glass of champagne.

“What does that even mean, ‘a Zoldyck’, as if it is something bad.”

“Don’t wreck your pretty head over it, you know how women are.” Hisoka laughed, and Illumi wasn’t sure how serious he meant that, considering that personally he had no idea how women are, and after newest revelations, neither did Hisoka.

But through the course of the night, Illumi couldn’t get it out of his head. He pretended not to notice how people approached Hisoka, addressed him by his name, first or full name, and talked with him about the content he has created, complimented on his most recent videos and looks. And he pretended not to notice how people approached him, addressed him only by his last name, and asked about the family business. “Mr. Zoldyck, are you going to write an article about this line?” “Mr. Zoldyck, about the next issue-“ “Mr. Zoldyck, tell my greetings to your father.”

No word about his own collection he had premiered. No one even uttered his first name.

He was ‘a Zoldyck’. Nothing more, nothing less.

“If looks could kill, we’d be ankle deep in a blood bath by now.” Hisoka snaked an arm around Illumis waist again and rested his hand on the tip of his hip. The designer took a long sip of the bitter champagne, casually slapped away the offending hand, and kept his dark eyes fixed on the crowd. “Still pouting because Machi was being a bully?”

“I am not pouting.”

“And you weren’t jealous either, got it~”

An eye roll, followed by “I have a headache, what’s the time anyway?” Illumi tried to reach for his phone in his pocket, though before he could grab it, Hisoka took hold of his wrist. They locked eyes, and even in the dim lighting of the venue, Illumi saw something wild glisten in those amber eyes. “Let’s leave, together, to my place.”

“Very subtle, Hisoka. I am not going to-”

“Indulge me, Tesoro, I want to show you something.” Determined to blame it on the repulsive atmosphere that had build itself up at the fashion show, Illumi let himself be swept away by Hisoka for the second time that day. The thought of getting away from noisy reporters and cockroaches of the industry who only knew him as the eldest Zoldyck.- former Heir to the empire, was pleasant enough, yet he also didn’t have to be alone and actively think about his reputation, name, and being a ‘lapdog’, technically a win-win situation.

The drive back to the apartment was oddly quiet, despite Hisokas prior excitement. The car tore through the dark night primarily in silence, only accented by the ‘The Velvet Underground’ album they agreed on after scrolling through Hisokas bizarre Spotify library. It definitely wasn’t the kind of music he was used to from the home he was raised in, didn’t fit between the classical music his mother used to play before her headaches made it impossible and the obscene noise music that Killua would play to trigger the same headaches.

“Could you check my messages for me?”

Hisoka hummed in response and grabbed the phone, manicured nails tapping on the screen, before dropping it unceremoniously back into the cup-holders. “Batteries dead.”

“That can’t be, I charged it before I went out this morning, the battery is supposed to hold for a minimum of 72 hours when idle.”

“Your dainty British batteries sometimes give out under Italian heat, invest in better engineering, and charge it at my place for now.”

“…This will better be worth the trouble.”

The streets of Rieti were expectantly empty, and Illumi parked the car right in front of the apartment (Was it a legal parking spot? Unlikely. But parking fines barely matter when seemingly half the world knows your families name.)

The stairs, the door, the entrance, Illumi knew all of these things about Hisokas apartment. “What is there to show me?”

“Patience. Come here~” Hisoka opened the doors to the balcony, white drapes gently tossed in the fresh breeze. The Zoldyck followed- with sceptical hesitation, but followed nonetheless.

He rested his hands on the railing, eyes turned sky-wards, a few strands of hair upset by the wind.

“If you took me here to just look at the stars, I’m not sure which one of us is the bigger fool.”

“Right, if we wanted to look at soon-to-be dead stars, we could have stayed at the show. But we’re not here for them. They are insignificant, always there to look at until one day they vanish and are forgotten. The real star of the show is over there.” He pointed a long nail at the night sky, and Illumi tried to follow where it pointed.

“The moon? Really?”

“Close, but also mundane and boring. Here- “Before Illumi could react, the strange man had placed their heads next to each other and started to correct Illumis position with a pointed yet gentle grip on his chin. “Look straight ahead.”

Just a little bit off to the left of the moon shone a star brighter than anything else, for a moment Illumi felt ridiculous for missing it.

“It’s Venus. Among all these long dead stars, she’s ever present, stands out the most, and is a rare sight to behold.”

“You took me away from the show to gaze at other planets?” Illumi turned towards the other man, suddenly all too aware of how close they were standing once again.

“I took you away from the show because no one there is capable of understanding your true potential. The way everyone there only sees you as an extension of your family is so infuriating, that it makes me want to ruin all their hopeless little dreams right in front their pitiful faces.” With a swift movement Hisoka had pinned the designer against the railing of the balcony. “You could crush all these people under your heel and make them beg for forgiveness. And there’s nothing I’d rather see than that.”

“I don’t need to make anyone beg, if I want something, I get it. It’s always been like that.” A cold thumb traced the line of his sharp chin, followed by a dark chuckle, and all of a sudden Illumi felt fatigued, all air leaving his lungs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers his mother recalling symptoms like that. It’s a sickness, nothing more nothing less.

“You get it because you’re a pretty show dog held on a short leash by your family.”

Fucking lapdog. The weight on his chest feels like it could crush his organs any second.

“I’m not asking you to bite the hand that feeds you. But I’d give everything to see what you could do if you were free of restraints.”

Feeling like he needed to hold onto anything, Illumi grabbed onto the back of the other man’s head, fingers buried in wild hair. “And why would you care so much? If you’re just trying to rile me up, there’s ways that don’t make me want to throw you off the balcony and watch your mangled body struggle for life.”

“It’s because you fascinate me, Illumi. You’re my Venus in a sea of dying stars. I want to observe you in all your glory as you outshine everyone else, in your full potential.”

“Who says I won’t crush you as well?” His fingers grasped harder on a few strands of hair. Everything in his body felt wrong, the way his skin was freezing all over, but searing hot wherever he made contact with the other man, the suffocating weight on his chest increased by the second, and in the back of his mind something about sickness echoes again.

They locked eyes, and just then Illumi noticed how close they truly were, Hisokas hot breath falling onto his lips.

And he should have pushed him away.

Should have slapped him, insulted him like the sorry maggot he was.

But he felt weak and sick and so cold, and Hisoka radiated pure heat.

Their lips met, softer than expected of either of them, and Illumi wondered if this is what it feels like to be saved from drowning.

A pleasant warmth seeped into his body, and his lungs felt weightless, like he could breathe for the first time in his life.

Hisoka kissed like each touch might be the last, and Illumi let himself be guided as he wanted, eventually wrapping his arms around the others neck, eager to steal as much of this intoxicating heat as possible.

The man kissed along his jawline, stopping just barely below his ear. “Stay here tonight, cuore mio.”

And Illumi placed a kiss to his temple, as gentle as a man who was never been taught gentleness with people could manage. “Let’s go inside.”

#hxh fanfic #hisoillu #killugon #hxh #hisoka marrow #illumi zoldyck #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #mito freecss #machi komachine #fanfic #fanfiction #I continue to have the worst update schedule known to man <3

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insidetheacademy · 4 years

Text

Say You Love Me || v

pairings: peter parker x reader (both are 18+!)

summary: y/n settles down in paris and met a new friend! also peter has a surprise

warnings: wet dREAAAMS

gif credits: tomholandd

part i part ii part iii part iv part v

the flight to Paris was okay except for a baby that was crying super loud. jeez, babies shouldnt be allow to travel you thought to yourself. after you had arrived, you went straight to this beautiful cottage that was apparently the company’s property. you said goodbye and thank you to the taxi driver and took a good look at the house infront of you. this is it, you’re gonna have to spend your time in this house for God knows how long.

you dragged your suitcase in and set it aside. you explored the interior of the house before going to the backyard. it was beautiful. there was a visible river and someone who used to lived here definitely took a good care of it since theres flowers and everything that you had seen in a fairytale. you werent gonna lie, you do feel like you’re a pauper. you took out your phone and captured the photo to upload to your Instagram. you captioned it “la vie en rose”, cliché but you had planned about taking photos and making your captions in french since you got on the airplane.

you head inside to take out all of your paintings essential. you felt inspired just by looking at the view there. you took one of the chair from the garden and sit down and started painting on your easel. you startled when you felt someone tapped your shoulder, you turned around and saw a tall pale man. he looks like he’s from around here.

“hey! y/n right?” he asked smiling wide, you took out your earphone “yeah? and who are you?” you asked confusingly, “Jules? we’re supposed to be working together?” he said trying to refresh your brain but you were still confused. “did they not tell you about me?” Jules asked, you shook your head and said a small sorry. you must have slipped over the email when they said that. you feel so stupid right now,

Jules explained everything and apparently he’s your new roommate. he was supposed to help you do a big painting for Claude Monet. you invited him inside to make a cup of tea for the both of you. “so, where are you from, Jules?” you cusped your teacup, “I live 30 minutes away from here. they wanted me to be here all the time to complete the painting as fast as possible and I couldnt say no,” Jules said.

after an hour and a half of talking with Jules, you really feel right at home with him. you two just met but you really feel a connection between him. you also found out that during his free time, he’s a guitarist and does gigs here and there to make extra pocket money. he said he’s in a band thats called “The Rejects Club” you laughed hard when he told you that because it sounded so high school-ish. but in his defence, he did say that the band formed when they were still in high school.

it was close to dinnertime, you didnt want to eat as you already eat a croissant that you quickly grabbed from the airport but Jules insisted to make cook for the both of you, you couldnt say no when his voice sounded so velvety and is like a warm cup of coffee with marshmallows on top. you were sitting on the couch with the both of your legs on top of the coffee table scrolling through instagram when Peter replied to your story, “how’s Paris so far?” he asked, “it was tiring but tomorrow’s gonna be more tiring,” you said.

whatever Jules was cooking definitely made your stomach growl with anticipation. you werent hungry but whatever he was making definitely made you hungry. you stood up from the couch to look at what Jules was cooking and it was pasta. to be accurate; an aglio olio. it smelled so delicious. you wanted to help so you took out the plates from the cupboard and set it down on the table.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“you know I love you right?” Peter said his lips nearing yours, you looked into his eyes and nodded. the kissed turned into a passionate and fiery kiss. he had your body against the wall, he was cusping your jaw with his left hand and the other underneath your shirt, you let out a moan and he squeezed tits.

“jump,” he said through the kiss and you obeyed not wanting to destroy the moment that you were having, he sets you down on the silk bed and continues to take of your clothes, he kissed from your collarbones to the place that you needed him the most, “y/n!” someone said, but you were so lost you thought it was Peter that was calling you but the familiar new voice kept coming closer and closer as you woke up.

you woke up with sweat forming on your forehead and your alarm ringing so goddamn loud, “jesus, are you okay?” Jules asked, “what time is it?” you looked around frantically trying to look for the clock, “its 10:30am! we were supposed to leave the house 15 minutes ago, y/n!” your eyes went wide and picked a floral strap dress and a cream coloured turtleneck. you went to the shower without having second thoughts.

you put your clothes on and quickly grabbed your shoes along with a pair of socks and your handbag. you locked the door and ran to Jules’ car. you were breathing heavily as you strapped your seatbelt on. “I can’t believe we’re late!” you said flabbergastedly, “yeah, I know! what time did you even go to bed?” Jules was clearly annoyed. seems like he’s the type of person to arrive right on time.

“I slept right after we had dinner! I don’t know why I couldn’t hear the alarm. God, I feel so stupid” You put your socks on and your shoes. You took out your lipstick and put them on. “Who is Peter, anyway?” Jules asked absentmindedly, you looked at him trying to find out how he knew that name and in hopes that he’s just fucking around but he’s not.

you closed your compact mirror, “he’s a friend of mine,” “a friend, huh?” Jules scoffed, “I didn’t know a friend moans another friend name in their sleep,” your face flushed with red as he said those words. “what the hell, Jules?! I could’ve went days without knowing that you heard me having wet dreams about my friend!” you cover your face in shame. you couldnt believe that he had hear you moaning Peter’s name

“Oh my gosh, I feel like I could just bury myself right here,” you said, “Relax, I’m not going to tell anyone,” Jules said taking your hands into his, giving you a warm smile.

you two had arrived at this building that was filled with paintings but not by those famous painters just paintings by painters that were starting out. “Ah darlings!” you heard a middle aged woman walking towards you with both of her hands wide open, obviously ready to hug the both of us to death.

“you must be Ms y/n!” she cupped your face and kissed your cheeks, what a weird way to greet somebody but thats how it is, “and you must be Jules!” she took a step back and took a good look of you and Jules’ faces. she introduced herself as Mrs. Autry. she walked the both of you around the office and explained about how everything works.

“I am so excited for the two of you to work with us,” she smiles warmly, “let me know if you need anything sweethearts!” she bid her goodbye and went to another direction. you and Jules walked to the nearest café and sat down there. you ordered a frappacino whilst Jules ordered a latte.

every now and then you somehow were reminded of how you dreamed of Peter. not only dreamed of him but in such an inappropriate way. you don’t like him anymore, you just don’t know why he’s haunting you this badly. should you stop being friends with him? it feels so awkward now that you dreamed of him banging you. “so what should we do?” Jules voice brought you back down to earth, you stuttered trying to come up with something.

he could tell by the look in your eyes that theres something wrong, “you know you can tell me anything right, y/n?” Jules said, he’s definitely good in reading someone’s body language. “i wont judge, y/n,” he reassures you, you took a deep breath and let everything out.

everytime you talked he would listen, he’s there for you, always looking into your eyes to keep the conversation going, you also mentioned about how Peter was a dick when he found out you were coming here, Jules said “what a dick, do you want me to punch him if he ever comes here?” Jules offered you then laughed at his attempt trying to make you feel better.

you both went home and went straight to each other’s room because you were so tired. you didnt realised how much walking there was gonna be today. you took out your phone and saw MJ messaged you, “hey!!! I have great news! I’m coming to Paris next month!” you smiled to yourself, woah, did MJ missed you that much already?

you typed back “I know you miss me but you don’t have to, you know?” “Haha, very funny, y/l/n,” you chuckled and asked her “why are you coming here?” a three dots appeared and her response was “I just wanted to go there and experienced a real trip. not like when we get to go there and it was cancelled,” you still remember when the school trip cancelled going to Paris because apparently they got “upgraded” to go to Prague.

you smiled when you remembered thats how you found out Peter was Spider-man. “well, you’re going to love Paris,” you replied to MJ. you also gave her your current home address in Paris so she can visit you! she thought it was a lovely idea.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“can’t you please to do this for me, MJ?” Peter begged MJ, basically down on his knees. “fine! but if everything went wrong do not blame me!” MJ gave in. Peter was planning to meet you in Paris but he wants it to be a surprise. something you’re going to remember till you’re dead.

Peter have missed you so much and he swore he could go crazy if he couldn’t see your face for another month. Peter was so excited that you gave a thumbs up and that you even gave MJ your address in Paris. he wonders to himself what could go wrong?

“there, I’ve done it, now can you please leave?” MJ crosses her arms, pissed that Peter hadwoken her up in the middle of the night because he couldnt keep it in his pants about his “love” for you. atleast thats what MJ teased him about. he never quite really admit it but MJ could see it and told him that he’s not fooling anybody with those goo goo eyes.

“thank you, MJ. i’ll find a way to repay you. i promise.” Peter said while crouching on her window, “you better, Parker, or you wont see the light of day ever again.” MJ threatens jokingly at Peter. he laughs and there he goes, he shot his webs to another building.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

a/n: hi sorry i know this is short and boring but i have so much on my plate right now but to make it up, I’ll try to post the next chapter tonight or tomorrow! again so SORRY its boring skdjsks but please do leave your thoughts!

say you love me taglist:

@imawkwardandhereweare @canyonmoonspidey @thebadassbitchqueen @thequeenreaders @averyfosterthoughts @a--1--1--3

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu #peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #actors

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selfproducingfanfictionauthor · 4 years

Text

to be treated this way - chapter i

pair: shownu x reader

summary: When your alpha - sort-of - found his true mate, you’re stuck dealing with the aftermath and the coming of your next heat. So when your friend suggested a “dating service” to aid you, signing up seemed like a no-brainer. So, you’ve prepared yourself for the dominance, the adrenaline-fueled by fear and arousal and the constant out-of-this-world sex but when you meet Shownu, everything you know about Alphas is challenged. He’s soft - for the lack of better word. He cooks you meals, he takes you out on dates… all of which are not really necessary for an Alpha - Omega relationship… right? Whatever. You’d just really, really, wish he’d touch you now warning: this story may be slow-paced at the start, no other warnings for now - also, boo seungkwan’s appearance! a/b/o dynamics!

Many poets and writers have tried, failed and came close to describing what true heartbreak is. Such fundamental human experience is so universal that many men and women across history have drawn inspiration from it and created amazing works of art - sculptures, plays, books and songs. At the back of your mind, you remember reading something like - “If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life” and although it’s beautiful and you certainly want to be saved, you feel like it’s too dramatic to apply to your own situation.

Even though you certainly feel like dying right now.

Mouth dry and head pounding, you blearily open your eyes to the sight of your blinking alarm clock. The numbers 1:03 pm mocks you in all its inherent cheeriness. Underneath the cocoon of your warm bed, you squirm, sweating and uncomfortable – feeling like you just want to crawl out of your skin just to reach the itch between your skin and bones. Fists closing and unfurling, you try to resist the urge to scratch, knowing that there’s nothing to find beneath, nothing to offer you relief.

Kicking off your sheets, you try to reign in the uneasiness. At the back of your ears, you feel the itch worsen, crawling down your nape burning down its path. Rubbing yourself against the scratchy texture of your bedsheets feels like heaven and hell alternating between five seconds – the brief relief only highlighting the torment of your hormones tenfold.

Time seem to pass too slowly as you try to muster the strength to get up. But your body refuses to cooperate, your limbs heavy and your mind foggy. This is what you hate the most about suppressants, the side-effects feels like punishment for being born an omega. Your head feels like it’s submerged underwater, and you don’t hear your apartment door opening with a bang.

“I’m here!” Seungkwan sings, grocery bags hanging from his arms. His eyes roam your kitchen before landing on you through your open bedroom door. At the sight of you, his mood drops. ”Oh my god, what are you doing!”

Your best friend rushes over to you and grasps your wrists, quickly pulling it away from your arms.

Streaks of scratches marred your neck and arms while you tremble. He notes with a small amount of relief, that at least, you didn’t break skin.

Aish, this girl.

Relief flood you at the familiar smell of your friend and his cool hands, drawing away from the heat marked by your nails. You let him drag you up to your couch. Sitting down, he grasps your wrists with one hand and reaches for one of the grocery bags with his other.

“Next time I see him, I’m gonna kick him in the nuts.” Seungkwan swears, agitated. Between the two of you, there’s only one person he could be referring to. You wince at the thought of Geun-woo, the alpha who had once frequented your bed. Pulling you out of your thoughts, Seungkwan fishes out a sheet of tablets and pops one open for you.

Trusting you to control yourself, he lets go of your wrists and hands you a bottle of water from the same bag.

“It’s not his fault he found his true mate, Seungkwanie.” You sigh, after swallowing the pill. You don’t know if it’s placebo or not, but immediately, the irritating itch and heat under your skin recedes.

The beta rolls his eyes. True mates, bah – people throw it around like a free pass. “True mate or not, it doesn’t mean he gets to drop you like a hot sweet potato – which you are, sweet and you look like a potato, woman, get yourself together! – and ride off into the sunset. Any decent alpha knows that omegas need weaning –”

Seungkwan goes off on a rant that you’ve heard on loop for the past week.

Geun-woo was a friend from the university. As alphas tend to be, he was popular and well-liked by your peers. His designation spurred him to be in the best shape he could be, drove him to win championship after championship for your university football team. After graduation, he went on to train for the national team and was – is – on his way to being a national athlete.

You could talk on and on about who Oh Geun-woo is to many people, but you could summarize what he was to you in three words: not your boyfriend.

The arrangement between the two of you was simple. You were adults, busy people living busy lives interrupted almost monthly by your heats and ruts. It was a logical and practical way to ensure that neither of you spend your vulnerable biological ~events~ alone. It was a good arrangement and after two years of it, you could honestly call Geun-woo a good friend.

However, the downside with spending such time so often with someone you’re not bonded with is you develop what experts call, a quasi-bond. It has all the effects of being bonded but dialed down by almost a hundred. You think it’s an exaggeration but you, an unbonded omega, really isn’t in the position to do so.

So when, Geun-woo found his true mate at some meet abroad, he dropped you faster than you could blink.

You don’t blame him, but man, it sucks.

Seungkwan glanced at you, sighing at your silence. Sending a prayer above, he fishes his wallet and takes out a card. “I have a suggestion.”

With your heat coming at you, barreling in the next two weeks, you’re just about open to any suggestion so, you hum behind your coffee mug, “The floor’s yours.” Well, at least the little of it that’s still visible under your clothes and knick-knacks.

“Before you say anything, know that I am suggesting this out of the goodness of my heart. But why don’t you consider this?” Seungkwan implored, handing you the card.

The black and purple card reads; “SS Matching Services” and under it, their company motto; “We’ve got the match for you.” With their office address and contact number.

“A pimping service?”

“Ya,” Seungkwan protested, red-faced, “Take your 19th century standards out of the gutter.”

His adamant protest startles a laugh out of you. For the guy who used to glare at anyone holding hands in public, your best friend has grown well. “Actually, it was worse in the 19th century but go off, I guess.”

Seungkwan leveled you with a flat look that had you raising your hands in surrender. No good can come from antagonizing the guy who just quite literally saved your life. “I’m listening.”

“Look, it’s just an option and it’s legit. Tough screening process too.” He takes out his phone and shows you the company’s website. Briefly, you glance at it before taking the card. Physically, it weighs like nothing but in your mind, it weighs like something amazing.

“How’d you know that?”

“My sunbaenim, uses this from time to time. It helps with his ruts. Win-win.” Seungkwan shrugs. You wonder which sunbae he’s referring to, given his many hobbies.

The website doesn’t look like it’ll give your laptop a virus, you’ll give it that. It’s classy and clean, and no random photos of just naked torsos. Good sign.

“You’re surprisingly blasé about this.” You laugh, eyes warm and surprised at how maturely Seungkwan delivers, only to laugh out loud at the sight of his burning ears.

You promised Seungkwan that you’ll check out the site but as soon as you got back to work, everything just swept you away.

That’s what happens when you work with kids.

Eyes warm with fondness, you quietly pat the bottom of one of your snoozing students. It’s nap time and your classroom has turned into some sort of sleepover area with all your students wrapped up with their soft blankets, nuzzling into their softer pillows. The early afternoon light filters into the room through the curtains, painting over the children with a soft glow.

Across you, another teacher takes the opportunity to get some of her own sleep in, curling herself protectively around two kids. Your classroom smells like baby powder and sweet treats, littered with small pastel chairs and tables. Its walls decorated with your students artworks and colorful cartoon characters.

This, this is one of the many moments that remind you why you became a pre-school teacher.

Many of your peers assumed it’s because of your designation. Omegas are naturally more inclined to take positions that require caretaking, given the innate desire to give care to others. Just like alphas are more likely to take positions that require leadership.

However, you muse, cooing as the young beta in front of you snuggle closer to your lap, many tend to gloss over the many manifestations of one’s designation. It’s true that by virtue of being an omega, you’re naturally more inclined to take care of your peers. Your so-called softness being the defining quality of your group.

But your omega manifestation is… a bit different. Sometimes, it makes you wonder how you got hired as a preschool teacher in the first place.

“Teach’r, sleepy time?”

Glancing down, you see the young beta pout at you. Waving away your thoughts, you slide down to her side and let the afternoon light lull you to sleep. All thoughts about your heat fading away quietly.

Soon, naptime was over and so is the day. Parents slowly trickle in, one after another, to pick up their children. Most of them harried from work, but still smiling at you and your co-teachers in gratitude.

“See you tomorrow, Rahui!” You call, as the last student leaves.

The little girl in her puffy sweater turns and smiles at you sweetly. “Bye, bye, teacher! Sleepy time!”

You flush at your student’s comment much to her mother’s confusion. After falling asleep earlier, you’d woken up to a clean classroom and several of your students hovering over you. Your pre-heat symptoms felt like they’re coming too fast for your taste.

Waving her off with a smile, you untie your apron and walk to the staff room where the others are. It’s almost 6 pm, and your daily staff meeting’s in session. In front of the room is your superior, an older bonded omega, with deep dimples on her cheek.

“Good job today, everyone.” She starts off, smiling at the soft cheers from everyone. “As you know…”

Your superior continues on to talk about the children’s upcoming activities. Vaguely, you hear her talk about a field trip, or is it a field demo? Shaking your head, you try to clear your thoughts but it seem like everything’s underwater, and no sound is escaping from her lips.

“… right, y/n?”

Blinking, you focus, and sent her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Your superior smiles forgivingly, “I was asking about that self-defense class you’ve been wanting to teach. When would you like to schedule it? Of course, pending approval with everyone’s schedule.”

Immediately, a large smile appears on your cheek. It’s approved?? You’ve been proposing that seminar for months. Most of the omega teachers were wary of the thought but warmed up to it recently. Especially when you mentioned how it’ll help them protect their kids – their students – more.

“How about two weeks from now?”

“Anytime!” You offer. The enthusiasm isn’t lost on your co-workers, some of them shaking their heads in amusement.

Your superior looks over your office board and hums at the chart. It contains all your schedules, including leaves, conferences to attend and heat cycles. With one look, your heart drops.

“Actually…” you start off, wincing at the thought of inconveniencing everyone because of your biology. “My heat is coming up in two weeks…”

Surprisingly, or not, omegas are actually quite liberal in discussing things like this. It’s simply part of the biology you live with. So your mortification is unfounded as your co-workers nod in understanding, quickly suggesting different dates.

Your superior nods, and glances at your work log book. “Well, we could schedule maybe four weeks from now to get you time to recover? Don’t forget to file your leave.”

Right.

“I still can’t believe she flew you in for her rut.” Jooheon’s laugh and disbelief reaches Shownu’s ears before he even steps inside. Smiling to himself, he finds his friends lounging in his living room, completely comfortable and completely unexpected.

Jooheon looks up at his arrival, “Hi, hyung! We let ourselves in!”

“I can see that.” Shownu nods in greeting, trying to remember who he gave his spare keys to. He’s pretty sure he didn’t make six copies of his set. Shrugging off his coat, he look on, realizing how his living room looks smaller with a bunch of guys occupying it. Jooheon and Minhyuk are on his couch, Changkyun’s on his stomach on the floor, playing with his phone and, Hyunwoo and Kihyun are by the window drinking a can of beer each.

That’s one, two, three… four, five…

“Hey, you’re home! And – are those protein bars?” The paper bag is snatched from his hand, before Shownu registers, blinking slowly as Wonho disappears once again into the kitchen.

The smell of jajjangmyeon invades his senses. Ah, yes, guys’ night.

Shortly after his arrival, everyone gathers in the dining room. With the two youngest improvising chairs out of the boxes Shownu hasn’t had the chance to unpack, having just moved into his new home a month ago.

To the eldest’s surprise, everyone pitched in with dinner, bringing different dishes and filling the dining table. Assorted cuts of meat are sizzling over the portable electric grill Wonho brought, several small plates of side-dishes and… are those buttered crabs he’s seeing? “What’s this?”

Minhyuk shoots him an amused glance over his beer, “You don’t really think we’ll let you off without a house warming, right?”

Shownu blinks, a small bashful smile forming on his lips, “But I’ve been here a month.”

An arm wraps around his shoulder and a weight shakes him back and forth. Kihyun rolls his eyes, getting into his personal space. “This is the first time we’ve been complete for a month! Just enjoy it!”

Jooheon hums, his cheeks filled with lettuce and meat from the grill. “Yeah, I mean, though it’s only Minhyuk-hyung that hasn’t been around, too busy getting his dick wet.”

“Oi!” their youngest protests, ears burning and nearly spitting out his drink. “We are eating.”

Wonho heartily “taps” Changkyun’s back, laughing. “We’re all adults here. It’s not as if you haven’t heard or said anything worse, Kyunie.”

“Yeah, daddy~” Hyungwon hits, reminding everyone of one very particular incident in college that featured a younger Changkyun and a girl from the bar, and the very thin walls of their shared apartment.

Changkyun flushes before rolling his eyes, “At least I get some. Can’t say the same to you.”

Scoffing, Minhyuk raises his hands, “Excuse me, I have no problem with that.”

Before Minhyuk starts to dive into his sexual exploits, Kihyun saves the day and shoves a piece of meat into his mouth and diverts the conversation to work.

Over food and drinks, Shownu and his friends catch up on their personal lives – not having as much time to get together as before. Not with Wonho’s celebrity coaching taking off, Jooheon and Changkyun’s new artist, Kihyun’s voice academy and Hyungwon’s and Minhyuk’s modelling.

Sometimes, Shownu feels left behind by the big dreams his friends are living but every day, he wakes up and goes home happy as a chef and food blogger. His appetite thanking him for the career path he chose. Besides, as Changkyun said, he could go big time if he wants, it’s just a matter of self-promotion which he’s terrible at given his shy personality.

Dinner passes by with a blur and they find themselves nursing their last beers when Jooheon circles back to Minhyuk’s vacation.

“So, hyung. How does it feel to fulfill your sugar baby dreams?” The young alpha jokes, his dimples appearing on his cheeks as he elbows Minhyuk.

Stars appear in the latter’s eyes and with a dreamy sigh, he responds jokingly, “Just as I’ve always dreamed.”

The one of the only two omegas of their group has never shied away from talking about his exploits, his looks and all the advantages he gets from it. Often, he jokes that’s why he became a model – to be admired and to fulfill his duties to the world and bless them with his godly looks.

“She flew me to her family’s island, and we spent her rut and my heat underneath the blanket of stars.” Minhyuk recounts, all dreamy-eyed, “I felt really spoiled.”

“I bet.” Kihyun remarked, smirking. “Is this the girl you’ve been telling us about?”

Ignoring Hyungwon’s cough of which one, Minhyuk nods, “Yes!” and turns to Shownu, “She’s actually friends with Nayeon – who, by the way, is asking me about you, hyung.”

Shownu blinks, before handing a can of beer to Wonho across him. “Me?”

“Yeah, she asked why you never called her.”

A chorus of ooh’s echoes in the room followed by a few gruff laughter. Shownu ducks his head and nurses his drink. Nayeon’s a nice girl, a model that he met when Minhyuk called in a favor for him to substitute as one of their shoot’s models after the original model called in sick. She gave him his number on a piece of paper before departing with a sultry look and a flying kiss.

Contrary to popular belief, Shownu is not dense – or, more like, he’s not that dense.

“Ah,” Shownu starts, “Um. I don’t think we’re looking for the same thing.”

Wonho pauses and eyes him, before levelling the younger guys with a look that has them catching their teasing remarks and keeping it to themselves. Wonho has known Shownu the longest and knows that though his friend’s an alpha, physically, through and through, his disposition often throws people off.

He’s soft when others are hard. Soft-spoken, patient like a saint and very careful with his actions and words. Wonho doesn’t even remember if he’s ever seen his friend get angry or aggressive in the span of their long friendship.

A romantic at heart, through and through.

“Well,” Kihyun claps, breaking the quiet, “You know, no point in pursuing something that you know’s a dead end, right?”

Minhyuk pouts, sometimes a little bit insensitive in his enthusiasm, “But she’s cute! And she’s an omega too! Besides – wait—how do you even deal with your ruts?”

Shownu’s face lights up like a lantern, the drinks doing nothing about the flush crawling up his neck. It’s not like he’s never spent it with someone, but every time, after the week of his rut, he always feel tired and empty. So for the past ruts, he’s been dealing with it - “Alone, with suppressants.”

“Yah, I thought you’d stopped taking those!”

Constant use of suppressants for an alpha fucks up their cycle and even their moods. Wonho knows this the best because he was on it for several months back in college, before he started becoming confident enough in his newfound muscles and height.

“I did.” Shownu nods, assuring his friends. “I don’t use them anymore. Just when I’m… you know. It’s just easier to deal with.”

All the alphas in the room scoff under their breaths. Yeah, it’s easy if easy felt like walking and dancing on hot coal in the middle of the hottest summer day. It’s not as if their eldest can’t get a woman just by standing by the bar, being his awkward self.

At their little corner, Jooheon and Changkyun glance at each other, years of friendship evident in their wordless communication. Changkyun tilts his head, eyes widening and jaw clenched, “Go”, he mouths.

Jooheon pouts, “Do you know how hard it is to get into their mixers, punk?”

Shrinking at Changkyun’s flat stare, Jooheon rolls his eyes and sends a prayer to the universe asking for good karma.

“Hyung, what do you think about dating services?”

Notes: The stage is set for our two protagonists! I tried to incorporate as much world-building and character backgrounds as I can without it being over the top. Please leave comments and asks! :) I’m trying to stick to weekly updates. Also, support Monsta X’s next comeback!

#shownu x reader #monsta x shownu #monsta x imagines #monsta x fanfiction #abo dynamics #seungkwan cameo appearance #because im a moncarat #seungkwan's a pimp #sort of #alpha shownu #omega reader #quite the lore for abo #monsta x comeback #monsta x x reader #monsta x #son hyunwoo fanfiction

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artoodeeblue · 4 years

Text

A Lady on Paper

Find the French version along with my other original writing on this blog!

I can barely remember my birth. My first one, anyway. The cornerstone. It is shrouded in mist, cloggy like the swamp of my cradle-town. Someone must have fathered me – towers and spires rarely sprout up unannounced, I have gathered. In the echoes of my nave, I still hear the scratching of quill over parchment, the heavy bangs of the hammer, the heaving of my creators’ breaths.

The little details give me real life. I take my first breath when Gaultier chisels his initials on one of my rib vaults. His upturned tongue sticks out, almost touching the freckles on his nose. The light bounces through his walnut hair and lands on my freshly-carved stones.

“Hello,” I whisper, gently caressing his mind.

“Hi.” He smiles. Wipes the sweat from his forehead. His voice is tentative. He doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but his tender name glows, etched into the millennia.

“Pleased to meet you, Gaultier.”

With a professional hand, he scratches another layer of mortar on his stone. In the growing mass that will become my visitors, the sound is both grounding and appeasing. Painfully, heavily, I rise.

“Me too, my Lady.”

Someone must have sired me, but my loyalty has always been to my children.

They give me jewellery and thorn crowns, which I accept like a mother concedes to her child’s present. I don’t need them, but if they reassure them – if they can feel less alone in this world – I can carpet my walls with a thousand tapestries.

Gaultier is long gone, but his laugh still echoes in the choir. It spins around, playfully blowing out candles and raising my children’s hair. His parting gift to the generations.

They give me eyes. I count three, round and gleaming. They flash with pastel, sketched with a delicate mix of stone and glass. With them I see my cradle-town. I see the steaming chimneys, the palace, the paved dampness of the city. I finally see my children, immersed in pink and blue light. Kneeling, muttering, singing. Confessing. They come in processions, light candles most cannot afford, speak a language I do not understand. I pray as well – that they find the answers they ask of me.

They add more intricate buttresses, for fear that I fall. I chuckle. Of course I will fall. I will burn down and crumble and fade until I am nothing more than a lady on paper. But Raymond will have none of this. He gives out orders, holding his parchment, counting steps and scratching on his board.

His touch is firm and steady. He pats me like his pet, running his fingers in the tiny creases between the stones.

(He misses Gaultier’s carvings, which I hide covetously.)

“You will become the most beautiful temple ever to stand upon this earth,” he tells me. His pompous language never fails to pry a laugh. “You will be thin as a sheet of parchment, yet your towers will stand strong until Judgment Day.”

“My sisters have not,” I try again. “Can you not hear their screams, as they fall to pieces and flames in the East? Only their ruins will see the sun rise on Judgment Day.”

“Not you,” Raymond insists. “You are better. You are good. You are holy.”

“Holier than the entire civilisation your people slaughtered in the name of God?”

His blue eyes glint with stars and hubris. He jerks his chin upwards. “Yes.”

My children are strong, and proud, and will burn themselves for a touch of the sun.

I wonder if this was how my sisters felt in the East.

They plunder my crypt, behead my kings and saints, but I never knew them anyway – they are all mere faces tattooed without my consent. Fake jewels. Kings never come to say hello; they just waltz in, kneel, smirk, and declare war over heretics.

Julien’s little kick is nonchalant, patronising.

The pavement is coated with a thick layer of blood. It swirls around me, inside me, churns my stomach and stares at me. They don’t do much to me – maybe, underneath the harsh gaze of the Raymond they so despised, they can hear Gaultier’s murmurs of hope. I never really understood hate, but I know it quickly dissolves under permanence.

“Not so powerful now, huh, girl?”

He wears a blue and red tricorn which awkwardly frames his childish face. He cannot be over twenty, yet his tongue sticks out as if he had finally brought a lion to its knees. Still, it has been decades since I have spoken. I nudge him back.

“Never,” I answer.

Julien smirks, and waves his little flag. “We control you now,” he gloats. “You’ll never hurt anyone else again. You’ll be forgotten, just like every other part of the Old Regime.”

“So will you.”

With a giant, heaving swing, the rod comes smashing towards St Thomas. His head explodes, and the fragments scatter through my bowels.

“I despise you,” he snarls. His breath is ragged, and his chiselled jaw twitches in its socket. “You’re everything that’s evil in this world.”

I am only rocks, I want to tell him. How can stone, oak, mortar and carved initials rival with the bloody smoke-trail of a musket?

But he is already gone, running on the pavement, carried by youth and homicidal optimism.

They change my name – it belongs sometimes to Reason, sometimes to the Supreme Being, sometimes to Liberty. My children are creative, and fickle. Anything to prove that they have changed.

But a few chopped off heads do not change the tell-tale glimmer in your eyes.

A man with almond eyes and a high forehead like mine pushes through my heavy door. His steps break my trance-like slumber, and I stir. Shy sunlight cracks through my unused eye. I blink. Slowly.

Gaultier’s laugh is no more than a whisper now. It has lost its music – has grown as lethargic as mine. Raymond’s promise flies over me like the angel of Death.

The man blows, sending a streak of fresh air over the piers. Dust materialises in the diffused rays. He stumbles around the half-ruins littered on the floor.

Electricity courses through his fingertips as he brushes my stone. I shudder. I haven’t been touched like this in centuries.

There’s an aura around him. Not divine – not like the few priests who still roam my sleepy aisles. Something rich and brown, scented with paper, ink and starlight. His eyes seek, blink, and dart in rhythm with the turn of the earth. His feet are posed firmly on the checkered tiles, yet his posture is light and dream-like. Grounded, physical, yet full of wonder. Not broken – not yet.

He smells so intensely, decidedly human.

I take a breath, and guide his hand towards the tiny alcove I made. It hides in the joint between walls, covered by dust and inconsequence. His breath gets caught in his throat, Adam’s apple bopping up and down. He religiously traces around the tired G, the sloppy H. It stings up to my spire, but tickling nerves feel much less lonely than numb inattention.

“Six hundred and fifty years,” he murmurs. “We must look like insects to you.”

I brush his skin, watching his eyes light up with Muses. Deep in the bowels of my bells, a slow rumbling comes to greet him.

“I think you look like giants, Victor.”

Out of everyone who said hello, he’s the only one who comes back broken.

“Look at you, all pampered,” he says. “You’re a proper lady on paper now. On your way to your old beauty.”

“It is your doing, my love. Your beautiful story set the spark.”

Victor smiles, a weary, tentative thing that contrasts with the navy bags under his eyes. His back is hunched, shoulders drawn tight under his jacket.

Sometimes, Victor reminds me so much of myself it sends sparks of pain down to my crypt.

“I am so very sorry, my dear.” I send him a tender sunray, but he recoils – flinches – away. He takes a shuddering inspiration.

The clangs and thrusts of the renovation scaffolding reverberate inside the nave. Victor’s knee fidgets back and forth, up and down, synchronised with my heartbeat. His breath comes in long, trembling sighs. He dips his head a little more, letting his brows cloud his gaunt expression with shadows too old for his age.

“She was…” Victor falters. “My Leopoldine, she was only nineteen.”

He whimpers, shoulders trembling. Never in his life could he withhold emotions from his features. My Victor has always felt everything so viscerally, so fiercely, that the force of a hundred hell fires could not possibly restrain him.

His hands are linked together and his eyelids close – a small, awkward attempt to connect to something far above my spire. I stay silent.

“You’re supposed to know everything.” His mouth moves, yet his voice comes from another realm. His brow twitches. “If you’re so omniscient, can’t you at least tell me… Tell me why?”

That is the one question I cannot answer, that I can never answer.

“Why can’t you bring her back?”

His broken sobs do not echo. Neither do Gaultier’s laugh, Raymond’s hopes, Julien’s fire. They are absorbed in the scaffolding above, in the heavy oak framework, in the centuries-old mortar.

Sometimes I wish I could speak to God. After all, am I not named after his mother?

Perhaps I am condemned to share her fate, forced to watch my children break and die, suspended to the cruel post of Time.

Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la cathédrale… Je partirai.

It feels…strange, to say the least. I am smaller, lower. Reduced.

Smoke and ashes fly from my spire over my cradle-town, my beloved light-city. My children are cut from me, staring powerless behind murmuring firemen. They pray, they sing, mutter words of comfort that I barely catch over the screaming in my mind.

It aches. The intricate carpentry consumed, the flames licking up my roof, the crashing water relentlessly boring into my shoulders. The tireless wind ramming against my walls, whistling between my towers. It carries the bystanders’ collective gasp as they watch my spire crumble and impale my flank.

A young fire woman fixes her gaze on the brazier, a stoic jawline firmly maintaining her illusion of control. I can barely discern the tell-tale glimmer of her eyes through the smoke.

“You must be in so much pain.”

Maybe, but my pain is not unbearable. My children’s is.

“Don’t worry. We will protect you.” Her voice is wobbly, with a higher pitch than usual, yet her hand on the hose could not get any steadier.

When the sun rises over my still smouldering body, I hear relief, and I hear grief. The city, my radiant, proud, boastful people, hang in exhausted silence. It drapes over me.

My close call to destruction caused thousands of individuals to turn their heads towards an old remnant of the Regime.

“We will rebuild,” they say. From my undamaged eye, I spot their leader, surrounded by a shifting mass of microphones and cameras. “We will restore Our Lady to her former glory, and make her even more beautiful. We will make these stones alive again.”

Raymond’s voice resonates through millions of television sets. His eyes bore straight through the country.

I think of Gaultier’s sweat-filled affection, of his cheery compassion.

Of Julien’s anger at the vices of the world, of the passionate curve of his eyebrows.

I think of Victor the writer, of his beautiful smile and his magnificent tears, of his unconditional love for humanity.

I think of the three or four billionaires I have never met, who will claim to adore me by bedecking me with fake jewels, by cajoling me with impersonal wood and long-dead cold stone.

I think of my other sisters in the ocean, in the forests, in the air. Cathedrals that will never be rebuilt nor remembered, in the small scheme of political power. Monuments older than my cradle-town disappearing with the snap of two fingers, never to be seen again. Killed by hubris, disdain and general disinterest.

My stones do not make me alive. Just like you, they decay, wither, and burn.

No. I do not remember the placing of my cornerstone.

I took my first breath when a young, gap-toothed bricklayer chiselled his initials on the slabs of my rib vault.

#writing #Notre Dame de Paris #short story #my writing #reblog if you like? please? <3

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gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

I was watching Brooklyn 99 and felt inspired by the dialogue. “Am I just a piece of meat to you?” “Yes. Now put on a smile, pork chop.” I just got strong pre dating idiots vibes when I thought about it.

“You.”

Tony Stark slams his hands down on the bar top.

“You are the one dating Dr. Who, yes?”

“Actually,” you sigh and take a sip of your beer, “I’m one of your employees, thank you very much, and you recently promoted me.”

“Well of course I know that.” He chuckles and slides into the seat next to you, raising a finger at the bartender. “I don’t mean that in any disrespect. I hear you’re a whiz in the language department?”

“One of my stronger suits, I guess.”

“We’re thinking of moving you up a few more levels.” The bartender slides him a glass; Stark clinks it against your bottle with a small smile. “I’m…not supposed to tell you yet.”

Stay cool. Stay cool.

“That’s neat.” You laugh nervously—what the hell are you supposed to say to that?? “I appreciate it, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony,” he corrects with a smile. “Thing is, you’d be working at the same level as loverboy over there, which from what I’ve heard, is quite the workplace love story?”

He tips his glass towards Loki—Laing—who seems to have decided that standing in a corner alone, watching everyone else mill about while still wearing his lab coat, is normal human behaviour.

Well…okay, maybe he’s not too far off. Dr. Banner is doing the same thing over in that other corner.

“We’ll just break up,” you blurt before you can stop yourself—then mentally slap yourself across the face.

“Wow. Okay, well, uh, that’s unnecessary,” Tony laughs. “Unless you’re looking for a way out, all you’ve gotta do is fill out a quick form just for HR to keep on record. Y’know, just to make sure he’s not using our rooms, equipment to give you any private checkups…”

You choke on your drink, spewing beer across the bar top.

“That’s not gonna happen,” you cough, furiously shaking your head. “Really, I swear, we don’t—no, god, no, we don’t do that.”

Tony’s eyebrow quirks. “Sure. Just fill out the form for me and we’ll get you movin’ as soon as we can, alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, of course! Thank you, Tony!”

He winks and pushes off the bar, heading back out into the crowd—stopping to shake Laing’s hand and engage him in a quick little conversation.

Oh, if only he knew.

You’ve been trying to avoid him all night, trying to make this first little (okay, unnecessarily giant) staff “meet your bosses” party as enjoyable and progressive to your career as possible.

Judging from the fact that you just spoke to the boss of all bosses over a beer about your love life…things are going pretty well.

Yeah, you can risk a quick chance to mock how awkward Loki looks at this party.

“Hey, loverboy.”

You slide up next to him and bump his hip with yours.

He just nods.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Shaking his head, he brings his glass of dark liquor to his lips and downs it in one gulp.

“Holy shit,” you laugh as he lowers the glass. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s been an interesting night,” he sighs, running a hand through his blond hair.

“Same here. I got promoted, like, a week and a half ago, and Tony Stark just told me they’re moving me up even higher.”

He glances over at you, finger tapping the rim of his glass. “You, too?”

“What?”

“I was promoted as well,” he explains, pushing off the wall and heading back towards the bar, you trailing not far behind. “I now have access to the scans of the brain belonging to a certain super soldier.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re joking.”

“Afraid not.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe, mind spinning. “You’ve barely been here a month, how the hell did you pull that off??”

Glass refilled, he raises it and clinks it against your half-finished beer with a lopsided grin. “I have my ways, darling.”

“Nuh-uh, tell me how you did that.”

“Robert Laing is the most qualified person in this building,” he chuckles, clearly enjoying your bewilderment. “I have…eight? Eight PhD’s, putting me even over our beloved Dr. Banner, and I may have told them I’ve worked for SHIELD for over a decade.”

“God of lies,” you mutter, spinning back around on your stool to slump against the bar top. “So that’s why I’m getting promoted, too, right? What’d you tell them about me?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“I got promoted to the same level as you. You lied about me, too, right? Said I worked with Howard Stark or some shit, just to help your little charade?”

“No…” he slowly shakes his head. “You earned your promotion by your own hand. All I’ve ever said about you is that you’re good in bed, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Y’know, sometimes I forget I hate you. Then you remind me.”

Loki raises his hands with a laugh. “Only speculating. I have to act the part, don’t I?”

“Robert Laing doesn’t need to be a class A douche,” you groan, dropping your head to your hands. “How about you make your fake self a sweet, dorky guy with a soft heart? Not some dick who’s only with his girl for the sex?”

“He’s a minimal effort character,” Loki replies smoothly. “Being two people at once is rather trying. If I spend too much time trying to be Robert, I could lose focus and let my duplicate slip.”

“And how terrible would that be—”

“Careful,” he cuts in, leaning towards you to speak low in your ear; “do I need to remind you what could happen if you intervene with my cover?”

“I know who you are,” you snap, grabbing a fork off the bar top and jabbing it into his stomach—he’s a little too close. Two can play this game. “And you just got yourself promoted to work right alongside your big bro. All it’ll take is one good yell from me and you’re back where you started, Loki.”

He scowls, teeth gritting in your ear. “Go on. Stab me, right here. Tell my brother the truth, show everyone here who I really am.”

“Maybe I will,” you hiss, pushing the fork into his gut a little harder. His fingers wrap around your bicep and squeeze as he starts to laugh, quiet and low, his breath tickling your neck.

“So fearsome.”

You grab his glass and slosh the drink in his face, dripping down the front of his precious lab coat.

“Aren’t I?”

With that, you hop off your seat and wrench your arm from his grip, leaving him sputtering at the bar behind you.

Of course, your smug satisfaction is momentary, screeching to a stop when a large hand wraps around your bicep again and with a sudden gust of wind, you’re no longer walking away from the bar.

“Not another word,” Loki hisses, fingers still tight around your arm. “Seems that I haven’t made myself clear enough as to the discretion our little arrangement.”

Your back hits a wall—and something else, crashing to the floor as you try to yank your arm out of his grip.

Ah. Mops.

“You are so—hmph—predictable,” you grit out, struggling to find your footing amidst the dark janitors closet. “You’d be a wonderful fanfiction character from 2012, whisking damsels off to dark closets—”

“Romantic, I know. Now stop—moving—” Loki grabs your other arm when you punch him in the gut and try to duck away, pushing you back against the wall—ooh, he’s almost sort-of panting. Guess he’s not invincible after all.

You stick your nose in the air, stomping your foot with a small huff of annoyance when you find you can’t cross your arms. “What now, Robbie? Gonna kill me or kiss me?”

“Robbie—oh, kill you. Definitely, without a moment’s hesitation, kill you.”

The knife to your throat was expected. So far almost every interaction you’ve had with this lovely old god has ended with one of you at the other’s throat, so you’re not exactly surprised.

You clear your throat, attempting to roll your eyes at the god pinning you to the wall. “Predictable,” you mutter, kicking pointlessly at his knees.

His eyes narrow, jaw clenches, fingers tighten around your arm…and he lets go.

He heaves a huge sigh, twirls the knife around his finger and pockets it, stepping away from you.

“Contrary to popular belief,” he says, long fingers pressing to his chest, “I don’t actually crave blood on my hands.”

“Couldn’t tell,” you scowl, rubbing your neck and shoving past him to the door of the little closet. Oh, perfect.

Locked.

“You planned this, didn’t you.”

Loki smiles. “Makes you more likely to listen to me, doesn’t it?”

That might be your best glare yet. Not that he could see it, with how dark it is in here, but it still counts.

“I was trying to not have to threaten you for silence,” he sighs, having the nerve to sound annoyed with you. “But it seems that you’re not overly fond of me nor the other version of me, so you really have no one to blame but yourself.”

“You self-righteous son of a—”

“You don’t have to like me,” he cuts in, lifting his hands in front of him. “I just need you to cooperate. Otherwise…you know too much to be kept alive.”

“Y’know, if this is how you present yourself to everyone new you meet, I’m not—ugh, surprised—no one likes you.” Giving the doorknob one last helpless yank, you bang your forehead against the wall with a huff of defeat. “You’re the worst.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He steps closer, hands still raised, palms open to you. Good, no knife this time.

This “relationship” is so screwed up that you’re almost touched by the fact that this time, he’s not trying to kill you.

“Can I trust you? Or do I have to silence you myself?”

You sigh, loud and exaggerated beyond belief just so he knows you’re not happy about it.

“Fine.”

“Good girl.”

A shocked, indignant little sound leaving your throat, you immediately raise your hand to slap the everloving shit out of him for that, but he chuckles and the lock on the door clicks.

“After you, darling.” He shifts back into Dr. Laing and opens the door for you with a wave of his hand.

“I’m not your d—”

“Having fun in there?”

Okay, mental note to tell Loki that the next time he picks a random closet to teleport to, don’t pick one in the restricted levels locker rooms.

“I-I’m so sorry, we got lost,” you stammer, not expecting to have ever run into the Black Widow in a locker room at work—she and the other avengers aren’t exactly at your paygrade.

“Lost,” she repeats, an amused grin tugging at her lips. “Okay. Laing, zip up and get out of here before I have to escort you.”

You spin on your heel to find Loki—once again your fake doctor-lover—slipping out of the little closet, a hand in front of his crotch zipping his pants, sheepishly grinning as he tucks his shirt into the waistband of his pants.

Oh, the little shit.

“You can’t blame me,” he chuckles, grabbing your hand and squeezing—he must’ve guessed you were about to slap him, for real this time. “Actually, you can’t blame her, either…can’t resist, what can I say?”

“Sorry. We’re leaving now,” you mutter, storming out of the locker room and dragging Loki along behind you before he gets any more detailed.

“You’re doing better already,” Loki laughs as you round a corner and practically shove him into the elevator, waiting until the second the door closes to bitch-slap him right across the face.

There’s a moment of shocked silence—you’ll treasure that forever. But then…

“…was that supposed to hurt?”

For the record, it hurt your hand more than it probably hurt his annoyingly defined cheekbones, but man, did that feel good.

“No,” you growl, turning around and crossing your arms as the elevator drops. “Just wanted you to know that I could do it.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

You can hear the patronising amusement laced into his voice.

“You’re the single worst person I’ve ever met.”

He smiles, glancing over at you. “You’ve mentioned, and yet you still play along with my charade.”

“Only because you threaten to kill me!”

“I think you like it,” he hums, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You’ve at least dressed your part tonight. You could pass for a love interest.”

“So that’s it? I’m just a piece of meat to you?”

“Yes.” The elevator dings and the door slides open, the staff party still in full swing. “Now put on a smile, pork chop.”

SMACK.

As long as you get to keep slapping him whenever he pisses you off, this little fake-lationship might just last long enough for Loki to leave.

If anything, seeing his stunned, flushed face after your palm meets his cheek is doing wonders for your confidence.

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

hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki slowburn #loki enemies to lovers #loki fake dating #loki imagine #pre-dating idiots

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shirtlesssammy · 5 years

Text

15x07: Last Call

Then:

In case you forgot, Dean and Cas are f i g h t i n g.

Now:

Texhoma, Texas

It’s bar time at a lonely little dive bar and two friends are stumbling to their car. Well, one is helping the other. Sally needs to vomit and runs to the bushes. Her friend, Angela, gets in the car instead of holding her hair back. I’m side eyeing your level of friendship here, ladies. Sally turns around from her puke-athon to find Angela and car gone.

Cut to Angela tied to a chair in a basement. There’s a line slowly draining blood from her arm --and a monster feeding on it behind a door!

At the bunker, Dean continues his nihilistic spiral by drinking all the beer in his room and surfing the internet for cases. He finds one!

Cut to Dean wandering into the kitchen where a very cozy Sam and Eileen are making all the breakfasts.

Dean knows when he’s a third wheel and decides to check out the case on his own. Sam and Eileen are living their best lives. He doesn’t want to get in the way.

Dean arrives at the Texhoma sheriff’s office and meets Sheriff Dillon. He asks about the disappearance of Angela. The sheriff isn’t convinced she’s gone. Her car went with her. He suggests that maybe she ran away to LA. Kids do that. They usually return within the week. He boasts that he stayed for a month.

Ok, I can’t recap this with a straight (*wink*) face anymore. WHAT THE WHAT was happening here? There is SO much staring and awkwardness. I loved it but also wanted to hide under a rock.

In any event, the sheriff admits that Angela’s friend has issues that usually keeps her at Swayze’s Bar 24/7. Before Dean can head out though, the sheriff tells Dean that he could go to LA and look for Angela. He could give showbiz a try himself. Cue camera zoom and, “You’ve got the look.”

Dean is confused.

That night Dean arrives at Swayze’s Bar. Dancing, drinking, and live music greet him. Also, a flirty waitress asks for his phone. This is a No Phones Allowed bar (guns are ok #AmericaYouAreTheWorst -and what’s even worse? As an American, I didn’t think twice about this line until international fans vomited on Twitter. Sigh.) Dean, who’s currently on a case, just drops it in the basket. I guess he won’t be calling Sam if he needs anything. He asks about the friend, Sally. The waitress, Lorna, hasn’t seen her yet. She does slap Dean’s ass as she walks away though. Sigh. <Insert discourse on all the times Dean’s been sexually assaulted and harassed throughout the years.> He turns around to watch the waitress walk away when he notices the lead singer of the band.

“Lee Webb.”

They’re old friends and ecstatic to see each other. Lee owns the bar. I wonder if they watched Swayze movies together in their youth?

Back at the bunker, things are snoozeville in Research Land. Eileen suggests they stop to do something fun. ooooOOOOOooooo. Sultry looks and awkward glances ensue. Sam takes her hand, she looks expectantly towards him, he leans forward, and...CAS INTERRUPTS! Bless the angel and his timing. Sam deserves it after 12 years of doing it to Cas and Dean. Cas and Eileen meet. Yay!

*Classic SPN Dialog Alert*

Cas: I thought your were…

Eileen: Dead? Yeah, I got...better.

Then Cas asks the important question in life: “Where’s Dean?” Lol, you two are divorced, remember? Anyway, Cas comes with ideas. He thinks that Sam and God are connected through their wound.

At the bar, Dean tells Lee that John died 13 years ago. Damn, when you put it like that, it’s overwhelming to think about how much of their lives we’ve watched. Lee’s sorry to hear it. They toast to his memory. They talk about the last time they saw each other. (A cult thing in Arizona.) Lee did one more case and hung up his hunter spurs. Dean asks if he regrets walking away. Nope.

At the bunker, Cas is going to probe Sam. Well, his wound really. Cas does his angel magic and that leads to Sam getting tossed against the wall. Ooops.

Cas calls and leaves a message with Dean (on all his many, many phones it seems.) Cas growling directly into the phone is all kinds of wonderful.

Dean’s busy reminiscing about orgies Lee and him had with triples. Yeah, they split triplets up “fair and square.” Um? <Insert lady doing complicated math gif here>

Cut to Sergei. Remember him? He sold Cas “archangel” grace back in the day. Cas needs his help. Cas goes all BAMF on him and we collectively swoon. Cas also makes another phone call.

For Hand Porn Science:

At the bar, Dean tells Lee all about Ghost Sickness (ah, that very funny episode, until it wasn’t. Andrew Dabb’s first episode. Lilith makes an appearance.) Lee asks about his current case. Dean shows him a picture of Angela. Lorna sees it and is surprised Lee doesn’t recognize her. She’s in the bar all the time. WHERPS. Someone’s a lying liar. Anyway, the conversation moves on and Lee tells Dean he could have this life. (*crying Rocky’s Bar noise*) Dean wants to know who’ll kill the bad guys? “You deserve a break, bro.” Ok, fair.

Lee then gets the band to play “Good Ol’ Boys” AND convinces Dean to join him on stage. Dean takes another shot and joins his friend. Dean’s on stage, but HE IS FREAKED OUT. Poor boy. He starts singing though.

And he can sing?? Ok. I will accept. Because I have to. Why would he pretend to not be able to sing for all these years? I mean, I guess, why does Dean pretend to be something he’s not is the main question we have about this poor soul in general.

A fight breaks out in the back - Blondie’s getting harassed. “Road house rules?” Dean asks, invoking our lord and savior, Swayze. Hell yeah. Dean and Lee make quick work of the bullies and Dean discovers that Blondie’s actually Sally Anderson, the best friend of the girl who disappeared.

Cas lets Sergei into the bunker. Sergei is positively ENAMORED by the bunker and all the delightful treasures within. Cool your jets, man! “You’re here for a reason,” Cas growls.

“Aren’t we all?” Sergei replies, and my eyebrows go WAY UP high in the air because that is some straight up authorial intent nonsense. They head in to the infirmary and Sergei uses a crystal to scan Sam like it’s a medical tricorder. Sam’s dying, according to Sergei.

Sally spills the details, including the disappearance of the car. “You can’t rapture a car,” Lee protests.

“It was a good car,” Sally tells him and I am definitely not now thinking about the Impala getting sucked up to her eternal rest in Heaven. Nope. Not thinking about that at all.

Instead of Heaven, Lee suggests that the car may have gotten dumped in the lake. Lorna, who is probably a TRUE CRIME enthusiast, suggests the scrapyard, though. Dean marks that as his first stop.

Sergei delivers some truth about Sam’s wound. It’s a soul-deep wound and connects his soul to something that wanders the world. When Castiel probed it, Sam’s soul was squeezed out of his body. Please be like me, and envision Sam’s soul as the toothpaste in a half used toothpaste tube squeezed by Castiel’s fist. If Sam’s soul wanders too far, he dies. Or, as in my analogy, the toothpaste tube of the soul explodes. Soul toothpaste everywhere!

In the junkyard, Dean discovers the victim’s car and more appallingly, her body hidden in the trunk. A gun is cocked behind him. It’s Lee! He knocks Dean out cold.

Sergei smears a potion on Sam’s wound. Sam begins to thrash violently while Sergei chortles to Cas about deliberately hastening his death with his “cure.” Wherps. Shockingly, trusting the villain who cheerfully harmed Jack has backfired! Sam flashes on Chuck’s conversation with Amara - particularly on all the bits where they discuss Chuck’s current weakened state. While Sam flashes, Eileen drives Sergei into the wall and chokes off his airway. FANS SELF.

Sergei demands the “Key to Death” in exchange for saving Sam’s life. It’s a key with a skeleton handle which can open the door to Death’s library. OKAY GUYS THIS IS NOT A DRILL I am very excited! First: a trip to the library! Second: it’s a SKELETON key, pardon me while I savor this pun with all I’m worth. Please, please can we visit Billie with a magic key? PLEASE????

Um. Anyway. Castiel isn’t taking any of Sergei’s bullshit. He pulls out his phone and shows a photo of Sergei’s niece, under surveillance by Bobby. At Castiel’s order, Bobby will kill her. This takes all the wind out of Sergei’s sails.

Cut to Sergei chanting over Sam just before Sam wakes up, mostly intact. “We good?” Sergei asks. Sure! BFFs.

Dean wakes up tied to a chair in a basement with an IV in his arm. “You awake, Buddy?” Lee asks, and isn’t that just an improper endearment to use at this time? Lee heads downstairs to deliver his villain monologue to Dean’s face. No sense in killing him while Dean was knocked out, right?!

Lee reveals that he had a very bad hunt that caused him to despair ever winning against the evil in the world. When he did his last hunt in this town, he found the monster who is now locked up in the cage in the bar’s basement. “As long as you feed it, it gives you money. It gives you health. It gives you anything you dreamed of.” Lee feels that the world owes him for his many monster kills from his younger days. The world isn’t divided into good or bad, nor does it care for anybody’s moral high ground. “But I do,” Dean says, and it’s like a rallying cry for our poor hot-dog-pantsed hero.

Lee releases the blood and it begins to travel up towards the monster’s cage. “Dean Winchester, the righter of wrongs. You’re gonna keep digging. You’re gonna figure me out.” Lee pats him on the shoulder one more time, bro-like, and heads up the stairs again.

Dean sizes up the situation, rocks the chair and shatters it on the floor like he’s made out of granite, and pulls out the needle. It’s monster fightin’ time!

Upstairs, Lee hears the commotion. It’s basically a lot of loud snarling and banging. Just a typical Friday night for Dean Winchester, amirite? Footsteps climb the stairs…and the monster’s head is thrown through the doorway.

They engage in a good ol’ fashioned shootout before confronting each other face-to-face. “I am you,” Lee tells Dean. But he’s a version that realized the world was broken and bought into it.

“Then you fix it,” Dean insists. “You don’t walk away. You fight for it.” And, as it turns out, they fight for justice, I guess. They fight and Dean skewers Lee with a broken pool cue.

“I’m glad it was you,” Lee says about his death which is twenty flavors of fucked up. Look, I know there’s all this meta about how this is Dean’s unrealistic fantasy and it shows him his true calling isn’t tending bar. That is all ABSOLUTELY accurate. But GUYS this also reads like another lesson from Chuck to poke Dean back into hunting and eventual fratricide again. Hot dog pants don’t kill people (EVEN THOUGH they straight up murdered fandom a few weeks ago). What parts of these episodes are meant to be Chuck and what are meant to be “free will”? I have no idea and I’ve never been more in love with this show!

!!!

Um. Anyway.

Dean returns to the bunker. Castiel, just striding innocently through the war room, is ASSAULTED by Dean’s surprise presence. “Dean,” he says, so very softly. GAAAAAH.

Dean asks after Sam. Castiel delivers the good news and can NOT maintain eye contact. WHEN WILL MY SUFFERING END? Castiel strides away and Dean follows him to check on Sam.

Sam, bless this poor clueless bean, is ecstatic with his new knowledge from his near-death visions. He realizes he saw Chuck’s memories, and knows he is weak now. Sam’s ready to take the Team Free Will monster truck and just rollllll it right over Chuck. Easy peasy!

________________________________

Gimme a Bro-Quote, Bro:

Duke? Like put up your dukes?!

I need a break and so do you. Why don’t we do something fun?

Livin’ the dream!

Can’t just keep lip syncing Eye of the Tiger while no one’s watching

You can’t rapture a car

Best friends don’t just leave without saying goodbye

I like this you, Castiel. It’s very…Russian

Good or bad. The world doesn’t care. No one cares, Dean.

________________________________

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#supernatural #spn recap #spn 15x07 #last call #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #eileen leahy #supernatural season 15

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rainandhotchocolate · 5 years

Text

Movie Star

A/N Hello! This is another fun idea I’ve had, I want to write more so let me know if u like it! It’s Sirius x reader fake relationship trope cause I’m yet to do that and YES PLEASE anyway enjoyyyy lel

Y/N stared in the mirror. She was wearing her nicest pair of jeans and cropped black flowing top with matching black boots that she had spent three hours shining last night. She’d even done her hair so it curled softly down her shoulders, having practiced it for the last week. She’d done everything she had planned for today, a whole binder sitting in her bag (that she’d also polished), healthy snacks and sunglasses and a small bottle of vodka, just in case, but she couldn’t move from the mirror.

It was her first day on set. Ever. Living in LA had been one of the most challenging and painful thing Y/N had ever done, and she had been very close to driving home and just fucking becoming a full-time taco bell server but she received a call two days previous for a tv series role because the girl originally offered it had been offered to play Meryl Streep’s daughter in some likely million dollar movie.

“Y/N, get the fuck out of the bathroom and leave!” Lily’s voice screamed from the hall, her fists banging loudly against the door.

“I just… I just need a minute!” Y/N called back, flattening out her hair again. You can do this. You’ve read the script. A lot. A lot a lot. You’ve got this. Or maybe you’re going to fall flat on your face.

“I swear to god, Y/N, if you miss your first day I will actually kill you.” Lily was banging with her foot now and Y/N groaned.

“Ok, ok, fine. I’m coming out.” Y/N steeled herself and turned on her heel, marching out of the room. “How do I look?”

Lily gave her a once over, her lips pursed.

“Hot as hell, but just professional enough.”

“Perfect, ok I should go shouldn’t I,” Y/N picked up her bag and swung it over her shoulder.

“Please do.”

Y/N pulled Lily into a tight hug and moved quickly out of the room. Lily called ‘Good luck’ loudly as Y/N slammed the door shut, struggling to pull her keys out of her bag with the amount of crap she had put inside it.

The drive was thankfully quick, and she pulled up to the lot in 23 minutes and 30 seconds feeling increasingly nervous and slightly worried that she might puke.

“ID,” the security guard sounded incredibly bored.

“Yes, right of course! It’s my first day so…” Y/N trailed off as she noticed the security guard had turned back to her phone. “Uh, here it is.”

The guard looked at it, checking the database before waving her through, the boom gate opening slowly. Y/N thanked the guard and drove through to the parking lot.

“Ok, lot 34, 34…” Y/N mumbled as she checked her phone, “Where the fuck is this.”

There seemed to be no numbers on any building, people moving left and right and screaming aggressively for her to move out of the way.

“Sorry! Fuck I cannot be late,” Y/N swore under her breath, feeling her heart rate increasing at the thought of being late and the director just firing her on the spot for being a trash actress who can’t even find a bloody set on time. She re-opened the email sent to her with the maps and details about the set, zooming in on 34 and trying to match it up where she’d walked from the parking lot, and smoothly slammed into someone’s back.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” Y/N winced, leaning over to pick up her bag and the things that had fallen across the floor.

“It’s totally fine,” a deep voice replied, the person she’d bumped into turning and bending down to help her out. “Here’s your… vodka?”

Y/N stood up and met the person’s eyes, nearly choking on her own spit. In front of her was the stupidly gorgeous, incredibly famous Sirius Black. He looked even better in person, and, frustratingly, had a goofy smile playing on his face as he handed her the bottle of alcohol.

“Oh, uh, I just am not really sure if I might need some kind of bribe and now that I’m saying it it sounds really idiotic, thank you.” Y/N grimaced, wanting to crawl into a hole.

“First day on set, huh?” Sirius laughed, popping the bottle into her bag.

“How did you guess,” Y/N sighed, “I’m very lost, any chance you would know where lot 34 is?”

“I would actually, it’s where I’m going as well.”

“I… oh.” Y/N had forgotten to read the cast list. In all her planning and panicking and memorising every aspect of the script and characters that she could, she’d forgotten to read the fucking cast list.

“You must be Y/N then? Replacing Amanda?” Sirius began leading the way towards set, Y/N struggling to keep up with his long legs and attempting to avoid staring at his perfectly styled dark curls that hung just above his shoulders.

“Yes! I got the call a few days ago.”

“You look familiar, what else have you been in?” Sirius pulled open a door to his right, letting Y/N go in first.

“Oh I actually… um… haven’t – “

“Y/N, Sirius, please get into hair and makeup we needed you on set 10 minutes ago!” A girl with bright blonde hair and a wild expression pointed towards two caravans to the side of the room. Y/N apologised and moved quickly away, having never been more thankful to be interrupted. She pushed the door open to hair and make-up, looking around awkwardly.

“Hey there! Y/N?” A girl with short brown hair and bright pink spiky earrings grinned at her.

“Yep, that’s me.” Y/N followed her into the small room that was covered in boxes of different make up, paints and wigs hanging up against the walls. The entire front of the caravan was covered in mirrors, a chair in front of each one.

Y/N sat down in the chair the girl directed to, staring at herself awkwardly in the mirror.

“I’m Alice, I’ll be your hair and make-up gal for this season, hopefully the next one but here’s hoping it’s picked up,” Alice began to fiddle with Y/N’s hair, pulling it up and around her shoulders whilst she spoke. “So have you read through the whole script? It’s definitely the coolest thing I’ve worked on so far, and lets be real we’ve all dreamed of working with Sirius.”

Alice actually waggled her eyebrows, grinning at Y/N.

“Yeah it sounds like a cool story,” Y/N mumbled, her eyes watching Alice’s hands closely, wondering what she was going to do to her.

“So cool!” Alice pulled her hair up into a bun, pining up the loose strands and standing in front of the mirror to look at her face. “I’ve gotta ask, how did you react when you found out you were getting to kiss Sirius? I think I would have screamed the house down.”

Alice giggled, grabbing out a brush and primer, beginning to smear it across her face. Y/N resisted closing her eyes and smiling absent-mindedly as the feeling of the brush swishing across her face almost made her forget what Alice just said. Once she’d lifted the brush Y/N replied.

“Is Sirius… is Sirius playing Aramis?” Y/N felt her stomach twist, Alice, testing a couple of foundation types on Y/N’s wrist before dabbing it across her face.

“Yes! Didn’t you read the cast list?”

“Apparently I’m not that smart,” Y/N muttered, wanting to kill herself. She could have prepared for this, researched him, previous roles, kissing style, not panicking when he leans in. You fucking idiot.

“Don’t worry, the amount of people who haven’t read the script by the first day on set would surprise you,” Alice’s warm smile seemed to calm her slightly, likely alongside with the soft brush sweeping over her cheeks and eyes.

“Are there…” Y/N paused, unsure if she wanted to admit that she was sort of new to the whole filming thing, or if she would be accidentally humiliating herself.

“Hmm?” Alice gave her a look, holding the brush back, “You ok?”

“Yeah, just nervous.” Y/N gave her a small smile.

“Well either way, you look amazing,” Alice stepped away from the mirror and behind Y/N’s chair so she could see herself in the mirror. Y/N leaned in to look at herself, or herself 2.0. Alice had somehow highlighted angles in Y/N’s face that she didn’t even realise she had, her eyes highlighted by the subtle brown eyeshadow and liner.

“Holy shit, you are good.”

“You’d hope so,” Alice breathed out a laugh, letting out Y/N’s hair. “Now I’m sorry in advance because you’ve done your hair so nicely, but we are starting with the second scene today and you’re about to have your hair absolutely destroyed by some back combing.”

“I’ll forgive you,” Y/N laughed at her genuinely apologetic expression, grimacing when she held up the brush like a knife.

“Here we go.”

Alice gave her a hug when she left the caravan, wishing her luck like they had been friends for the last seventeen years and pointed her towards costumes. Four girls and two guys swarmed around her, holding up multiple tops and pants that looked exactly the same but with slight differences in the colour. Y/N wondered if they’d made them after the previous girl had cancelled, Y/N had given her a thorough stalk and immediately noticed the very big skin tone difference. They handed her a peasant blouse and linen pants, letting Y/N slip them on behind a curtain before circling her again once she’d changed, handing her a pair of lace up brown boots.

Y/N walked towards set, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly with each step. Someone knocked her lightly on the shoulder.

“Love the new look.” Sirius smiled at her, his hair looking somehow better.

“Yes, it’s called the ‘my hair is secretly a bees nest’” Y/N matched Sirius’ quite fast pace, drinking in his loud, dog-like laugh, his head shaking back.

“Alice is honestly an artist,” Sirius grinned at her, leading her towards the director and producer who were huddled together next to the set of large village facades, a gravel path along the front.

“She is, this isn’t my real face,” Y/N felt her heart flutter as she made Sirius laugh again.

“Y/N, Sirius! Glad you’re here, we are running short on time today because apparently we’ve been bloody double booked,” the director hissed at the producer who grimaced apologetically.

“I just want to see how you guys run through the second scene, doesn’t need to be anything fancy, just want to see you on the set and then we will start blocking properly. Sound good? Good.” She didn’t wait for them to answer, pointing them towards the gravel pathway.

“Great,” Sirius smiled fixing his collar and moving towards the set, Y/N followed close behind him. Y/N took a deep breath, sitting down on the path, trying to stop herself from fidgeting and calm herself. You know this, you can do this.

“And, action!”

It was a mixture of exhausting and exhilarating, and a couple of times where Y/N became slightly too mesmerised with Sirius’ impeccable acting skills. Once she’d been dismissed Y/N began to walk awkwardly back towards the caravan where the costuming team had moved her clothing, a large set of letters with her name on it across the front. It was probably the most exciting thing she’d seen all day.

As she reached it, she was pulled sideways by a small girl with a sharp brown bob and perfect cat-eye.

“Hi, Mary, PR, I just need to chat to you and Sirius for a quick sec ok?” Y/N was dragged towards Sirius who had been chatting animatedly to Alice, leaning against one of the set facades. “Sirius, a second?”

“Yep, see you tomorrow, Al,” Sirius winked at her and she waved him off.

“Ok, don’t have a lot of time, need to be at a marketing meeting in 10 minutes. So as you’re aware you two are love interests in the show and we are already getting some great hype given that the books have been getting steadily more popular. We want to lean into the pairing, a couple of staged outings, nothing confirmed just hints, ok? I’ll set up some time to run through the times we are going to get you two to be together, and what to post up on your socials.”

“Wait sorry are you talking about pretending to be together? Like… like a relationship?” Y/N interrupted her, stuttering awkwardly and berating herself internally.

“Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow with more details, just want to keep you in the loop.” Mary shook both their hands in quick succession and sped off towards the exit, heels clicking loudly against the concrete. Sirius and Y/N said nothing to each other for a few awkward moments.

“Well, I guess we will be seeing a lot more of each other,” Sirius broke the tension, his hand tucking into the front of his jeans.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Aha. Shit.

Taglist: @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco @sly-vixen-up2nogood @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad @evyiione @minerva26love @aikeia @gollyderek @greatwombatblaze @songforhema @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom @hermionie-is-my-queen @demiwitch527

#rainandhotchocolate #sirius x reader #sirius x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius imagine #sirius black imagine #sirius black fake relationship #fake relationship #sirius fanfiction

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ladyfogg · 4 years

Text

May I? - 1/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she's truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

A/N: Hey guys! I have this fic posted over on AO3 already but thought I’d post it here as well. Currently there are 12 chapters. This fic is ongoing and while I have a clear arc/story in the works, I haven’t decided when it will end. I’m just kind of going with it. This story has been my support fic throughout this whole fucking quarantine mess and I’ve been having a lot of fun writing it. I’ll be posting all the chapters so far throughout the week.

It may seem that everyday something happens aboard the Enterprise. It was almost like every week it was an invasion, a messy political shift, a weird time distortion loop, hostile negotiations...the list went on and on. However, in reality, there was a lot of time when nothing happened. When the ship glided through space effortlessly and the crew fell into a steady routine. Occasionally, they stopped at a planet to gather samples or map it. But other than that, all was quiet.

It was on one of those routine days that Data found himself in Engineering, helping Geordi with several re-calibrations. They were minor modifications the two had wanted to implement for some time yet had not been able to.

All had gone according to plan and they were in the process of completing their work when Geordi stood up straight, a triumphant smile on his face.

"All set," he declared. "The conductors are functioning five-percent higher than normal. We should run a level one diagnostic just to be sure but there shouldn't be any issues."

"I agree. Readings are well within standard parameters," Data concluded, fingers dancing across the console.

"I asked Diaz to do a manual sweep just to be sure," Geordi said. "I haven't heard from her yet but it doesn't seem like anything is out of place." He tapped his communicator. "La Forge to Ensign Diaz, what's the status of your sweep?"

Geordi waited for a response but one did not come. He tapped his communicator again. "Ensign Diaz, report!"

Nothing.

Data had only known Ensign Diaz in passing but he recalled Geordi's increasing frustration with the new crew member. She did not seem to have the same level of skills as some of her fellow engineers and her behavior had been less than exemplary.

"Where is she?" Geordi muttered. "Computer, locate Ensign Diaz."

" Ensign Diaz is located in Jefferies Tube 42B."

"Now what the hell is she doing in there?" Geordi said with exasperation. "And why isn't she answering?"

Data cocked his head as he ran through all possible scenarios. "I have calculated two hundred and thirty possible reasons for Ensign Diaz's behavior. One, she found a structural issue that she decided to correct. Two, one of the conductors may be showing signs of stress the computer cannot detect. Three—"

"Thanks, Data. I get it," Geordi cut him off. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm going to find out what's going on."

He had barely taken a step away from the console when his own communicator beeped. "Riker to La Forge, meet me in Transporter Room One. Prepare to beam to the planet's surface."

Geordi sighed but responded, "Aye, Commander. On my way."

Data saw Geordi glance in the direction Ensign Diaz had gone. "I am not required on the Bridge until oh-eight hundred hours. I can locate Ensign Diaz for you," he offered.

Geordi looked relieved and gave his best friend a smile. "That'd be great, thanks, Data. I'll be back as soon as I can." He gave him a pat on the back as he walked by.

Data finished his work a second later before heading to the tubes. He found one of them already open and climbed inside.

He did not see any signs of the ensign so he proceeded forward.

"Ensign Diaz?" he called, his voice echoing off the metallic walks around him.

He came across her communicator a short distance away, sitting at the bottom of a ladder. Frowning, Data picked it up and examined it. It did not look damaged and a quick diagnostic revealed it was in working order. He continued his search.

When he climbed the ladder, he was met with the sight of Ensign Diaz, deeply engrossed in one of the panels on the wall.

"Ensign Diaz?" he asked.

She spun around in surprise. Once she realized who spoke, she tried to straighten up, though it was difficult in such a tight space.

"Commander Data! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question." Data held up her communicator. "I found this in the shaft behind us. I believe it is yours."

Diaz touched the spot on her uniform where it should have been as if she had not known it was missing.

"Thank you. It must have slipped off when I was climbing." She took it from him, pinning it back in place.

"Why are you in the tubes? Commander La Forge asked me to find you. He said you were told to do a manual sweep."

"I was a-and I did," Diaz stuttered, tucking a loose strand of dark hair back into her braid. "While I was doing so, I noticed one of the panels was out of alignment. Physically. I-I tried to correct it. It wouldn't budge so I decided to try to get it from the other side."

"I see." Data moved forward to check her work. Sure enough, he could see where the unit was off-center. "Most curious. That should not be possible."

"That's what I thought. But I can't seem to get it back into place."

Data knew what was going to happen before it did. Yet even with his quick reflexes, he was not able to prevent the accident.

Diaz did not have a proper grip on the part when she tugged on it. She had been perspiring and as a result, her hands slipped. The momentum sent her forward, where she smashed her head on the metal edge of the unit.

She screamed in pain, hand pressed to the spot as Data pulled her away. "Son of a bitch!" she exclaimed.

"Are you alright?" Data asked.

"Aside from seeing stars, I think so. Let's just fix the stupid thing and get out of here."

"I will handle it." Data carefully released Diaz, letting her rest against the tube wall while he took her place. Within seconds he fixed the situation, securing the unit into its proper position before determining it was in perfect working condition.

"My readings indicate everything is in working order," he said as he moved his tricorder over the unit. "Good work, Ensign."

"Thanks," Diaz said, removing her hand from her head.

Data looked at her, only to realize her forehead was smeared with blood.

"Ensign Diaz, you are bleeding."

"What? No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I believe you injured yourself when you hit your head."

"It's not that…" She looked at her hand, the color draining from her face when she saw blood on her palm. "...bad."

Data put his recorder in his pocket and made a move to tap his communicator but she stopped him.

"No, wait! Don't!"

"Ensign, you are bleeding. I must contact sickbay."

"Honestly, I'm okay. I just need something to wipe up the blood. I'll be fine."

"I insist."

Diaz sighed and Data noted her eyes looked glossy. He wondered if the injury was more severe than she was letting on.

"Let's at least get out of this stupid tube," she said. "I promise I'll walk there myself."

"That would be acceptable. As a precaution, I will accompany you to Dr. Crusher."

He motioned for her to move ahead and the pair began to backtrack. It was slow work as Diaz was careful not to leave a trail of bloody handprints in their path. When it came time to climb the ladder, Data insisted on going first so he could monitor her in case she needed help.

He kept his eyes on Diaz, looking for any signs of distress while she descended. He noted her balance was unsteady. She rocked slightly and had to pause several times. During one of those times, she shut her eyes, arms wrapped around the rung in front of her.

"Ensign Diaz—"

"Please, call me, Faith. I never liked formal titles very much."

"As you wish. Faith, are you experiencing dizziness?"

"Sir, I'm fine."

Data found himself making a noise of disbelief. "No. You are not."

Faith cracked her eyes open, glancing down at him and Data saw her arms trembling as she tried to keep herself up. "Commander?"

"Yes?"

"I think I might pass out."

Her eyes rolled back in her head and her grip loosened, sending her tumbling off the ladder. For the second time, Data caught her in his arms. Quickly he tapped his communicator.

"Data to Transporter Room Two. I need immediate transport for two to sickbay. Current location Jefferies Tube 42B."

"Aye, Commander!" O'Brien's voice answered. "I'll have you there in a jiff."

A second later, Data found himself standing in the middle of sickbay, Faith's limp body in his arms. Dr. Crusher whirled around, eyes widening when she saw them.

In an instant she was at their side, scanning Faith. "What happened?" she demanded.

"Faith hit her head. She became weak and lost consciousness."

"How long ago?"

"The injury took place approximately ten minutes ago. She has been unconscious for thirty seconds."

"Data, get her up on the bed for me."

As he carried her across the room, her eyes fluttered open.

"Ugh, where am I?"

"You are in sickbay," he answered, gently lowering her down onto one of the beds.

"What happened?"

"Do you not remember hitting your head?"

Faith's eyes closed and she swallowed thickly, her head lolling from side to side. "It's all fuzzy." She grew still again.

"Faith? It's Dr. Crusher. I need you to open your eyes again. Can you do that for me?" When there was no answer, Beverly injected Faith with something while handing Data a towel. "Data, press this to her wound while I get my dermal regenerator. We have to stop the bleeding."

"Yes, Doctor."

Data did as he was told, pushing Faith's bangs back from her face so he could see the wound properly. It was deeper than he initially noticed. He pressed the towel to it, noting how much paler she had become in such a short period of time.

Beverly reappeared a moment later. He stepped aside so she could work, watching with rapt attention as she peeled the towel away before spraying the wound with antibacterial ointment. Once it was clean, she carefully sealed up the wound, leaving nothing but smeared blood in its place.

"That's done at least," she muttered to herself. She picked up her tricorder and resumed scanning the young woman.

"Will Faith be alright, Doctor?"

"She should be. According to my readings, she has a concussion. I recommend she be taken off duty for the time being."

"A smart recommendation."

Beverly finished scanning Faith, but this time her mouth deepened into a frown. "Hmm…" She scanned her again.

"Is something wrong?" Data asked.

It took a moment for the doctor to acknowledge his question. When she did, Beverly gave him a tight smile. "Nothing you need to worry about. Thank you for your help, Data. I can take it from here. You're free to go."

"I have already created a formal report of the accident. I will send it to you now for your records."

"That'd be great, thanks. And I'll let Geordi know not to expect Faith for a few days."

"Excellent. Have a good day, Doctor."

Data took his leave, but something came over him and made him pause, turning to look back. Faith was still unconscious and Dr. Crusher was staring at her as if deep in thought. Her expression was one Data had come to associate with that of concern.

However, he had duties to attend to. So he left sickbay and filed the incident for later review.

#data soong #commander data #lt commander data #data tng #star trek next generation

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